FRED  LOCKLEY 

RARE  WESTERN  BOOKS 

4227  S.  E.  Stark  St. 
PORTLAND.  ORE. 


<c> 


OLD   INDIAN    LEGENDS 


This  was  a  sign  of  gratitude  used  when  words  failed  to  interpret 
strong  emotion 

(See  page  89) 


OLD  INDIAN  LEGENDS 


RETOLD    BY 


ZITKALA-SA 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY 

ANGEL    DE   CORA 

(Hinook  .  Mahiwi  •  Kilinaka) 


BOSTON,  U.SA.,  AND  LONDON 
GINN  &  COMPANY,  PUBLISHEES 
&tl)emettm 
190^ 


9  B 


ENTERED  AT  STATIONERS'  HALL, 


COPYRIGHT,  1901 
BY   GINN  &  COMPANY 


ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED 


PREFACE 

THESE  legends  are  relics  of  our  country's 
once  virgin  soil.  These  and  many  others  are 
the  tales  the  little  black-haired  aborigine  loved 
so  much  to  hear  beside  the  night  fire. 

For  him  the  personified  elements  and  other 
spirits  played  in  a  vast  world  right  around  the 
center  fire  of  the  wigwam. 

Iktomi,  the  snare  weaver,  lya,  the  Eater, 
and  Old  Double-Face  are  not  wholly  fanciful 
creatures. 

There  were  other  worlds  of  legendary  folk 
for  the  young  aborigine,  such  as  "  The  Star- 
Men  of  the  Sky,"  "  The  Thunder  Birds  Blink 
ing  Zigzag  Lightning,"  and  "  The  Mysterious 
Spirits  of  Trees  and  Flowers." 

Under  an  open  sky,  nestling  close  to  the 
earth,  the  old  Dakota  story-tellers  have  told  me 
these  legends.  In  both  Dakotas,  North  and 
South,  I  have  often  listened  to  the  same  story 
told  over  again  by  a  new  story-teller. 

While  I  recognized  such  a  legend  without  the 
least  difficulty,  I  found  the  renderings  varying 

V 

M182702 


Preface 

much  in  little  incidents.  Generally  one  helped 
the  other  in  restoring  some  lost  link  in  the 
original  character  of  the  tale.  And  now  I  have 
tried  to  transplant  the  native  spirit  of  these 
tales  —  root  and  all  —  into  the  English  lan 
guage,  since  America  in  the  last  few  centuries 
has  acquired  a  second  tongue. 

The  old  legends  of  America  belong  quite  as 
much  to  the  blue-eyed  little  patriot  as  to  the 
black-haired  aborigine.  And  when  they  are 
grown  tall  like  the  wise  grown-ups  may  they 
not  lack  interest  in  a  further  study  of  Indian 
folklore,  a  study  which  so  strongly  suggests  our 
near  kinship  with  the  rest  of  humanity  and 
points  a  steady  finger  toward  the  great  brother 
hood  of  mankind,  and  by  which  one  is  so  forci 
bly  impressed  with  the  possible  earnestness  of 
life  as  seen  through  the  teepee  door !  If  it  be 
true  that  much  lies  "in  the  eye  of  the  beholder," 
then  in  the  American  aborigine  as  in  any  other 
race,  sincerity  of  belief,  though  it  were  based 
upon  mere  optical  illusion,  demands  a  little 
respect. 

After  all  he  seems  at  heart  much  like  other 

peoples. 

ZITKALA-SA. 


vi 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

IKTOMI  AND  THE  DUCKS ,°  1 

IKTOMI'S  BLANKET 17 

IKTOMI  AND  THE  MUSKRAT 25 

IKTOMI  AND  THE  COYOTE 35 

IKTOMI  AND  THE  FAWN 45 

THE  BADGER  AND  THE  BEAR 59 

THE  TREE-BOUND 75 

SHOOTING  OF  THE  RED  EAGLE 91 

IKTOMI  AND  THE  TURTLE 101 

DANCE  IN  A  BUFFALO  SKULL Ill 

THE  TOAD  AND  THE  BOY 117 

IYA,  THE  CAMP-EATER 129 

MANSTIN,  THE  RABBIT 143 

THE  WARLIKE  SEVEN  157 


vii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THIS  WAS  A  SIGN  OF  GRATITUDE  USED  WHEN  WORDS  FAILED 

TO  INTERPRET  STRONG  EMOTION  —  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

HE  SNIFFED  IMPATIENTLY  THE  SAVORY  ODORS  ...  12 

"GREAT-GRANDFATHER,  GIVE  ME  MEAT  TO  EAT!"  .  20 

THE  MUSKRAT  BEGAN  TO  FEEL  AWKWARD  ....  28 
A  SHOWER  OF  RED  COALS  UPON  IKTOMI'S  BARE 

ARMS  AND  SHOULDERS 42 

THERE  AMONG  THEM  STOOD  IKTOMI  IN  BROWN 

BUCKSKINS 54 

OVER  A  BED  OF  COALS  SHE  BROILED  THE  VENISON  64 

HE  PLACED  THE  ARROW  ON  THE  BOW 98 

"MY  FRIEND,  YOU  ARE  A  SKILLED  HUNTER"  .  .  104 

TINY  FIELD  MICE  WERE  SINGING  AND  DANCING  .  .  114 
A  LITTLE  BOY  STOPPED  HIS  PLAY  AMONG  THE 

GRASSES 124 

THE  PROUD  CHIEFTAIN  ROSE  WITH  A  LITTLE  BABY 

IN  HIS  ARMS •.-•;'.  .  134 

I  AM  GOING  TO  THE  NORTH  COUNTRY  ON  A  LONG  HUNT  146 

HE  BLEW  THE  WATER  ALL  OVER  THE  PEOPLE  .  162 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   DUCKS 


OLD    INDIAN    LEGENDS 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   DUCKS 

IKTOMI  is  a  spider  fairy.  He  wears 
brown  deerskin  leggins  with  long  soft 
fringes  on  either  side,  and  tiny  beaded 
moccasins  on  his  feet.  His  long  black 
hair  is  parted  in  the  middle  and  wrapped 
with  red,  red  bands.  Each  round  braid 
hangs  over  a  small  brown  ear  and  falls 
forward  over  his  shoulders. 

He  even  paints  his  funny  face  with  red 
and  yellow,  and  draws  big  black  rings 
around  his  eyes.  He  wears  a  deerskin 
jacket,  with  bright  colored  beads  sewed 
tightly  on  it.  Iktomi  dresses  like  a  real 
Dakota  brave.  In  truth,  his  paint  and 


Old  Indian  Legends 

deerskins  are  the  best  part  of  him  —  if 
ever  dress  is  part  of  man  or  fairy. 

Iktomi  is  a  wily  fellow.  His  hands  are 
always  kept  in  mischief.  He  prefers  to 
spread  a  snare  rather  than  to  earn  the 
smallest  thing  with  honest  hunting.  Why ! 
he  laughs  outright  with  wide  open  mouth 
when  some  simple  folk  are  caught  in  a 
trap,  sure  and  fast. 

He  never  dreams  another  lives  so  bright 
as  he.  Often  his  own  conceit  leads  him 
hard  against  the  common  sense  of  simpler 
people. 

Poor  Iktomi  cannot  help  being  a  little 
imp.  And  so  long  as  he  is  a  naughty 
fairy,  he  cannot  find  a  single  friend.  No 
one  helps  him  when  he  is  in  trouble.  No 
one  really  loves  him.  Those  who  come  to 
admire  his  handsome  beaded  jacket  and 
long  fringed  leggins  soon  go  away  sick 
and  tired  of  his  vain,  vain  words  and 
heartless  laughter. 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

Thus  Iktomi  lives  alone  in  a  cone-shaped 
wigwam  upon  the  plain.  One  day  he  sat 
hungry  within  his  teepee.  Suddenly  he 
rushed  out,  dragging  after  him  his  blanket. 
Quickly  spreading  it  on  the  ground,  he 
tore  up  dry  tall  grass  with  both  his  hands 
and  tossed  it  fast  into  the  blanket. 

Tying  all  the  four  corners  together  in 
a  knot,  he  threw  the  light  bundle  of  grass 
over  his  shoulder. 

Snatching  up  a  slender  willow  stick  with 
his  free  left  hand,  he  started  off  with  a 
hop  and  a  leap.  From  side  to  side  bounced 
the  bundle  on  his  back,  as  he  ran  light- 
footed  over  the  uneven  ground.  Soon  he 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  great  level  land. 
On  the  hilltop  he  paused  for  breath.  With 
wicked  smacks  of  his  dry  parched  lips,  as 
if  tasting  some  tender  meat,  he  looked 
straight  into  space  toward  the  marshy 
river  bottom.  With  a  thin  palm  shading 
his  eyes  from  the  western  sun,  he  peered 


Old  Indian  Legends 

far  away  into  the  lowlands,  munching 
his  own  cheeks  all  the  while.  "Ah-ha!" 
grunted  he,  satisfied  with  what  he  saw. 

A  group  of  wild  ducks  were  dancing  and 
feasting  in  the  marshes.  With  wings  out 
spread,  tip  to  tip,  they  moved  up  and  down 
in  a  large  circle.  Within  the  ring,  around 
a  small  drum,  sat  the  chosen  singers,  nod 
ding  their  heads  and  blinking  their  eyes. 

They  sang  in  unison  a  merry  dance-song, 
and  beat  a  lively  tattoo  on  the  drum. 

Following  a  winding  footpath  near  by, 
came  a  bent  figure  of  a  Dakota  brave. 
He  bore  on  his  back  a  very  large  bundle. 
With  a  willow  cane  he  propped  himself  up 
as  he  staggered  along  beneath  his  burden. 

"Ho!  who  is  there?"  called  out  a 
curious  old  duck,  still  bobbing  up  and 
down  in  the  circular  dance. 

Hereupon  the  drummers  stretched  their 
necks  till  they  strangled  their  song  for  a 
look  at  the  stranger  passing  by. 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

"  Ho,  Iktomi !  Old  fellow,  pray  tell  us 
what  you  carry  in  your  blanket.  Do  not 
hurry  off !  Stop !  halt !  "  urged  one  of  the 
singers. 

"  Stop  !  stay  !  Show  us  what  is  in  your 
blanket !  "  cried  out  other  voices. 

"My  friends,  I  must  not  spoil  your 
dance.  Oh,  you  would  not  care  to  see  if 
you  only  knew  what  is  in  my  blanket. 
Sing  on !  dance  on !  I  must  not  show 
you  what  I  carry  on  my  back,"  answered 
Iktomi,  nudging  his  own  sides  with  his 
elbows.  This  reply  broke  up  the  ring 
entirely.  Now  all  the  ducks  crowded 
about  Iktomi. 

"  We  must  see  what  you  carry !  We 
must  know  what  is  in  your  blanket ! "  they 
shouted  in  both  his  ears.  Some  even 
brushed  their  wings  against  the  mysteri 
ous  bundle.  Nudging  himself  again,  wily 
Iktomi  said,  "  My  friends,  't  is  only  a  pack 
of  songs  I  carry  in  my  blanket." 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"Oh,  then  let  us  hear  your  songs  !  "  cried 
the  curious  ducks. 

At  length  Iktomi  consented  to  sing  his 
songs.  With  delight  all  the  ducks  flapped 
their  wings  and  cried  together,  "  Hoye ! 
ffoye !  " 

Iktomi,  with  great  care,  laid  down  his 
bundle  on  the  ground. 

"  I  will  build  first  a  round  straw  house, 
for  I  never  sing  my  songs  in  the  open  air," 
said  he. 

Quickly  he  bent  green  willow  sticks, 
planting  both  ends  of  each  pole  into  the 
earth.  These  he  covered  thick  with  reeds 
and  grasses.  Soon  the  straw  hut  was 
ready.  One  by  one  the  fat  ducks  waddled 
in  through  a  small  opening,  which  was  the 
only  entrance  way.  Beside  the  door  Iktomi 
stood  smiling,  as  the  ducks,  eyeing  his 
bundle  of  songs,  strutted  into  the  hut. 

In  a  strange  low  voice  Iktomi  began 
his  queer  old  tunes.  All  the  ducks  sat 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

round-eyed  in  a  circle  about  the  mysterious 
singer.  It  was  dim  in  that  straw  hut,  for 
Iktomi  had  not  forgot  to  cover  up  the 
small  entrance  way.  All  of  a  sudden  his 
song  burst  into  full  voice.  As  the  startled 
ducks  sat  uneasily  on  the  ground,  Iktomi 
changed  his  tune  into  a  minor  strain. 
These  were  the  words  he  sang : 

"Istokmus  wacipo,  tuwayatunwanpi  kin- 
han  ista  nisasapi  kta,"  which  is,  "With  eyes 
closed  you  must  dance.  He  who  dares  to 
open  his  eyes,  forever  red  eyes  shall  have." 

Up  rose  the  circle  of  seated  ducks  and 
holding  their  wings  close  against  their  sides 
began  to  dance  to  the  rhythm  of  Iktomi's 
song  and  drum. 

With  eyes  closed  they  did  dance  !  Iktomi 
ceased  to  beat  his  drum.  He  began  to  sing 
louder  and  faster.  He  seemed  to  be  mov 
ing  about  "in  the  center  of  the  ring.  No 
duck  dared  blink  a  wink.  Each  one  shut 
his  eyes  very  tight  and  danced  even  harder. 

9 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Up  and  down !  Shifting  to  the  right  of 
them  they  hopped  round  and  round  in  that 
blind  dance.  It  was  a  difficult  dance  for 
the  curious  folk. 

At  length  one  of  the  dancers  could  close 
his  eyes  no  longer !  It  was  a  Skiska  who 
peeped  the  least  tiny  blink  at  Iktomi  within 
the  center  of  the  circle.  "  Oh !  oh ! " 
squawked  he  in  awful  terror  !  "  Run  !  fly  ! 
Iktomi  is  twisting  your  heads  and  breaking 
your  necks !  Run  out  and  fly !  fly ! "  he 
cried.  Hereupon  the  ducks  opened  their 
eyes.  There  beside  Iktomi's  bundle  of  songs 
lay  half  of  their  crowd — flat  on  their  backs. 

Out  they  flew  through  the  opening  Skiska 
had  made  as  he  rushed  forth  with  his  alarm. 

But  as  they  soared  high  into  the  blue  sky 
they  cried  to  one  another :  "  Oh  !  your  eyes 
are  red-red!"  "And  yours  are  red-red!" 
For  the  warning  words  of  the  magic  minor 
strain  had  proven  true.  "  Ah-ha ! "  laughed 

Iktomi,   untying  the  four    corners    of    his 
10 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

blanket,  "  I  shall  sit  no  more  hungry  within 
my  dwelling."  Homeward  he  trudged  along 
with  nice  fat  ducks  in  his  blanket.  He  left 
the  little  straw  hut  for  the  rains  and  winds 
to  pull  down. 

Having  reached  his  own  teepee  on  the 
high  level  lands,  Iktomi  kindled  a  large  fire 
out  of  doors.  He  planted  sharp-pointed 
sticks  around  the  leaping  flames.  On  each 
stake  he  fastened  a  duck  to  roast.  A  few 
he  buried  under  the  ashes  to  bake.  Disap 
pearing  within  his  teepee,  he  came  out  again 
with  some  huge  seashells.  These  were  his 
dishes.  Placing  one  under  each  roasting 
duck,  he  muttered,  "The  sweet  fat  oozing 
out  will  taste  well  with  the  hard-cooked 
breasts." 

Heaping  more  willows  upon  the  fire, 
Iktomi  sat  down  on  the  ground  with  crossed 
shins.  A  long  chin  between  his  knees 
pointed  toward  the  red  flames,  while  his 

eyes  were  on  the  browning  ducks. 
11 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Just  above  his  ankles  lie  clasped  and 
unclasped  his  long  bony  fingers.  Now  and 
then  he  sniffed  impatiently  the  savory  odor. 

The  brisk  wind  which  stirred  the  fire 
also  played  with  a  squeaky  old  tree  beside 
Iktomi's  wigwam. 

From  side  to  side  the  tree  was  swaying 
and  crying  in  an  old  man's  voice,  "  Help ! 
I  '11  break !  I  '11  fall ! "  Iktomi  shrugged 
his  great  shoulders,  but  did  not  once  take 
his  eyes  from  the  ducks.  The  dripping  of 
amber  oil  into  pearly  dishes,  drop  by  drop, 
pleased  his  hungry  eyes.  Still  the  old  tree 
man  called  for  help.  "  He  !  What  sound 
is  it  that  makes  my  ear  ache!"  exclaimed 
Iktomi,  holding  a  hand  on  his  ear. 

He  rose  and  looked  around.  The  squeak 
ing  came  from  the  tree.  Then  he  began 
climbing  the  tree  to  find  the  disagreeable 
sound.  He  placed  his  foot  right  on  a 
cracked  limb  without  seeing  it.  Just  then 

a   whiff    of   wind    came    rushing    by   and 
12 


,  t ; 


He  sniffed  impatiently  the  savory  odor 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

pressed  together  the  broken  edges.  There 
in  a  strong  wooden  hand  Iktomi's  foot 
was  caught. 

"Oh!  my  foot  is  crushed!"  he  howled 
like  a  coward.  In  vain  he  pulled  and 
puffed  to  free  himself. 

While  sitting  a  prisoner  on  the  tree  he 
spied,  through  his  tears,  a  pack  of  gray 
wolves  roaming  over  the  level  lands.  Wav 
ing  his  hands  toward  them,  he  called  in  his 
loudest  voice,  "  He !  Gray  wolves !  Don't 
you  come  here !  I  'm  caught  fast  in  the 
tree  so  that  my  duck  feast  is  getting  cold. 
Don't  you  come  to  eat  up  my  meal." 

The  leader  of  the  pack  upon  hearing 
Iktomi's  words  turned  to  his  comrades  and 
said: 

"Ah!  hear  the  foolish  fellow!  He  says 
he  has  a  duck  feast  to  be  eaten !  Let  us 
hurry  there  for  our  share  ! "  Away  bounded 
the  wolves  toward  Iktomi's  lodge. 

From  the  tree  Iktomi  watched  the  hungry 

13 


Old  Indian  Legends 

wolves  eat  up  his  nicely  browned  fat  ducks. 
His  foot  pained  him  more  and  more.  He 
heard  them  crack  the  small  round  bones 
with  their  strong  long  teeth  and  eat  out 
the  oily  marrow.  Now  severe  pains  shot 
up  from  his  foot  through  his  whole  body. 
"Hin-hin-hin!"  sobbed  Iktomi.  Real  tears 
washed  brown  streaks  across  his  red-painted 
cheeks.  Smacking  their  lips,  the  wolves 
began  to  leave  the  place,  when  Iktomi  cried 
out  like  a  pouting  child,  "At  least  you  have 
left  my  baking  under  the  ashes!" 

"Ho!  po!"  shouted  the  mischievous 
wolves;  ahe  says  more  ducks  are  to  be 
found  under  the  ashes !  Come !  Let  us 
have  our  fill  this  once!" 

Running  back  to  the  dead  fire,  they 
pawed  out  the  ducks  with  such  rude  haste 
that  a  cloud  of  ashes  rose  like  gray  smoke 
over  them. 

"  Hin-hin-hin !"  moaned  Iktomi,  when 
the  wolves  had  scampered  off.  All  too  late, 

14 


Iktomi  and  the  Ducks 

the  sturdy  breeze  returned,  and,  passing  by, 
pulled  apart  the  broken  edges  of  the  tree. 
Iktomi  was  released.  But  alas  !  he  had  no 
duck  feast. 


IKTOMI'S   BLANKET 


17 


IKTOMI'S   BLANKET 

ALONE  within  his  teepee  sat  Iktomi. 
The  sun  was  but  a  hand's-breadth  from 
the  western  edge  of  land. 

"  Those  bad,  bad  gray  wolves !  They  ate 
up  all  my  nice  fat  ducks!"  muttered  he, 
rocking  his  body  to  and  fro. 

He  was  cuddling  the  evil  memory  he  bore 
those  hungry  wolves.  At  last  he  ceased 
to  sway  his  body  backward  and  forward, 
but  sat  still  and  stiff  as  a  stone  image. 

"  Oh !  I  '11  go  to  Inyan,  the  greatgrand 
father,  and  pray  for  food!"  he  exclaimed. 

At  once  he  hurried  forth  from  his  teepee 
and,  with  his  blanket  over  one  shoulder, 
drew  nigh  to  a  huge  rock  on  a  hillside. 

With  half-crouching,  half-running  strides, 
he  fell  upon  Inyan  with  outspread  hands. 

19 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"Grandfather!  pity  me.  I  am  hungry. 
I  am  starving.  Give  me  food.  Great-grand 
father,  give  me  meat  to  eat !"  he  cried.  All 
the  while  he  stroked  and  caressed  the  face 
of  the  great  stone  god. 

The  all-powerful  Great  Spirit,  who  makes 
the  trees  and  grass,  can  hear  the  voice  of 
those  who  pray  in  many  varied  ways.  The 
hearing  of  Inyan,  the  large  hard  stone,  was 
the  one  most  sought  after.  He  was  the 
great-grandfather,  for  he  had  sat  upon  the 
hillside  many,  many  seasons.  He  had  seen 
the  prairie  put  on  a  snow-white  blanket  and 
then  change  it  for  a  bright  green  robe  more 
than  a  thousand  times. 

Still  unaffected  by  the  myriad  moons  he 
rested  on  the  everlasting  hill,  listening  to 
the  prayers  of  Indian  warriors.  Before  the 
finding  of  the  magic  arrow  he  had  sat 
there. 

Now,  as  Iktomi  prayed  and  wept  before 

the    great-grandfather,    the     sky    in    the 
20 


Great-grandfather,  give  me  meat  to  eat!  " 


Iktomi9  s  Blanket 

west  was  red  like  a  glowing  face.  The 
sunset  poured  a  soft  mellow  light  upon 
the  huge  gray  stone  and  the  solitary  figure 
beside  it.  It  was  the  smile  of  the  Great 
Spirit  upon  the  grandfather  and  the  way 
ward  child. 

The  prayer  was  heard.  Iktomi  knew  it. 
"Now,  grandfather,  accept  my  offering; 
't  is  all  I  have,"  said  Iktomi  as  he  spread 
his  half -worn  blanket  upon  Inyan's  cold 
shoulders.  Then  Iktomi,  happy  with  the 
smile  of  the  sunset  sky,  followed  a  foot 
path  leading  toward  a  thicketed  ravine. 
He  had  not  gone  many  paces  into  the 
shrubbery  when  before  him  lay  a  freshly 
wounded  deer! 

"This  is  the  answer  from  the  red  western 
sky!"  cried  Iktomi  with  hands  uplifted. 

Slipping  a  long  thin  blade  from  out  his 
belt,  he  cut  large  chunks  of  choice  meat. 
Sharpening  some  willow  sticks,  he  planted 

them  around  a  wood-pile  he  had  ready  to 
21 


Old  Indian  Legends 

kindle.  On  these  stakes  he  meant  to  roast 
the  venison. 

While  he  was  rubbing  briskly  two  long 
sticks  to  start  a  fire,  the  sun  in  the  west 
fell  out  of  the  sky  below  the  edge  of  land. 
Twilight  was  over  all.  Iktomi  felt  the  cold 
night  air  upon  his  bare  neck  and  shoulders. 
"  Ough  !  "  he  shivered  as  he  wiped  his  knife 
on  the  grass.  Tucking  it  in  a  beaded  case 
hanging  from  his  belt,  Iktomi  stood  erect, 
looking  about.  He  shivered  again.  "  Ough ! 
Ah !  I  am  cold.  I  wish  I  had  my  blanket !  " 
whispered  he,  hovering  over  the  pile  of  dry 
sticks  and  the  sharp  stakes  round  about  it. 
Suddenly  he  paused  and  dropped  his  hands 
at  his  sides. 

"  The  old  great-grandfather  does  not  feel 
the  cold  as  I  do.  He  does  not  need  my  old 
blanket  as  I  do.  I  wish  I  had  not  given  it 
to  him.  Oh !  I  think  I  '11  run  up  there 
and  take  it  back!"  said  he,  pointing  his 
long  chin  toward  the  large  gray  stone. 


Iktomi' s  Blanket 

Iktomi,  in  the  warm  sunshine,  had  no 
need  of  his  blanket,  and  it  had  been  very 
easy  to  part  with  a  thing  which  he  could 
not  miss.  But  the  chilly  night  wind  quite 
froze  his  ardent  thank-offering. 

Thus  running  up  the  hillside,  his  teeth 
chattering  all  the  way,  he  drew  near  to 
Inyan,  the  sacred  symbol.  Seizing  one  cor 
ner  of  the  half-worn  blanket,  Iktomi  pulled 
it  off  with  a  jerk. 

"  Give  my  blanket  back,  old  grandfather ! 
You  do  not  need  it.  I  do !"  This  was  very 
wrong,  yet  Iktomi  did  it,  for  his  wit  was  not 
wisdom.  Drawing  the  blanket  tight  over 
his  shoulders,  he  descended  the  hill  with 
hurrying  feet. 

He  was  soon  upon  the  edge  of  the  ravine. 
A  young  moon,  like  a  bright  bent  bow, 
climbed  up  from  the  southwest  horizon  a 
little  way  into  the  sky. 

In  this  pale  light  Iktomi  stood  motion 
less  as  a  ghost  amid  the  thicket.  His  wood- 

23 


Old  Indian  Legends 

pile  was  not  yet  kindled.  His  pointed  stakes 
were  still  bare  as  he  had  left  them.  But 
where  was  the  deer  —  the  venison  he  had 
felt  warm  in  his  hands  a  moment  ago?  It 
was  gone.  Only  the  dry  rib  bones  lay  on 
the  ground  like  giant  fingers  from  an  open 
grave.  Iktomi  was  troubled.  At  length, 
stooping  over  the  white  dried  bones,  he  took 
hold  of  one  and  shook  it.  The  bones,  loose 
in  their  sockets,  rattled  together  at  his 
touch.  Iktomi  let  go  his  hold.  He  sprang 
back  amazed.  And  though  he  wore  a 
blanket  his  teeth  chattered  more  than  ever. 
Then  his  blunted  sense  will  surprise  you,  lit 
tle  reader ;  for  instead  of  being  grieved  that 
he  had  taken  back  his  blanket,  he  cried 
aloud,  "Hin-hin-hin!  If  only  I  had  eaten 
the  venison  before  going  for  my  blanket!" 
Those  tears  no  longer  moved  the  hand 
of  the  Generous  Giver.  They  were  selfish 
tears.  The  Great  Spirit  does  not  heed 
them  ever. 

24 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   MUSKRAT 


25 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   MUSKRAT 

BESIDE  a  white  lake,  beneath  a  large 
grown  willow  tree,  sat  Iktomi  on  the  bare 
ground.  The  heap  of  smouldering  ashes 
told  of  a  recent  open  fire.  With  ankles 
crossed  together  around  a  pot  of  soup, 
Iktomi  bent  over  some  delicious  boiled  fish. 

Fast  he  dipped  his  black  horn  spoon  into 
the  soup,  for  he  was  ravenous.  Iktomi  had 
no  regular  meal  times.  Often  when  he  was 
hungry  he  went  without  food. 

Well  hid  between  the  lake  and  the  wild 
rice,  he  looked  nowhere  save  into  the  pot 
of  fish.  Not  knowing  when  the  next  meal 
would  be,  he  meant  to  eat  enough  now  to 
last  some  time. 

"How,  how,  my  friend!"  said  a  voice 
out  of  the  wild  rice.  Iktomi  started.  He 

27 


Old  Indian  Legends 

almost  choked  with  his  soup.  He  peered 
through  the  long  reeds  from  where  he  sat 
with  his  long  horn  spoon  in  mid-air. 

"How,  my  friend  ! "  said  the  voice  again, 
this  time  close  at  his  side.  Iktomi  turned 
and  there  stood  a  dripping  muskrat  who 
had  just  come  out  of  the  lake. 

"Oh,  it  is  my  friend  who  startled  me. 
I  wondered  if  among  the  wild  rice  some 
spirit  voice  was  talking.  How,  how,  my 
friend  !  "  said  Iktomi.  The  muskrat  stood 
smiling.  On  his  lips  hung  a  ready  "  Yes, 
my  friend,"  when  Iktomi  would  ask,  "  My 
friend,  will  you  sit  down  beside  me  and 
share  my  food  ?  " 

That  was  the  custom  of  the  plains  people. 
Yet  Iktomi  sat  silent.  He  hummed  an  old 
dance-song  and  beat  gently  on  the  edge  of 
the  pot  with  his  buffalo-horn  spoon.  The 
muskrat  began  to  feel  awkward  before  such 
lack  of  hospitality  and  wished  himself  under 
water. 

28 


The  muskrat  began  to  feel  awkward 


Iktomi  and  the  Muskrat 

After  many  heart  throbs  Iktomi  stopped 
drumming  with  his  horn  ladle,  and  looking 
upward  into  the  muskrat's  face,  he  said : 

"  My  friend,  let  us  run  a  race  to  see  who 
shall  win  this  pot  of  fish.  If  I  win,  I  shall 
not  need  to  share  it  with  you.  If  you  win, 
you  shall  have  half  of  it."  Springing  to 
his  feet,  Iktomi  began  at  once  to  tighten 
the  belt  about  his  waist. 

"My  friend  Ikto,  I  cannot  run  a  race 
with  you !  I  am  not  a  swift  runner,  and 
you  are  nimble  as  a  deer.  We  shall  not 
run  any  race  together,"  answered  the  hun 
gry  muskrat. 

For  a  moment  Iktomi  stood  with  a  hand 
on  his  long  protruding  chin.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  something  in  the  air.  The 
muskrat  looked  out  of  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  without  moving  his  head.  He  watched 
the  wily  Iktomi  concocting  a  plot. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Iktomi,  suddenly  turn 
ing  his  gaze  upon  the  unwelcome  visitor; 

29 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"  I  shall  carry  a  large  stone  on  my  back. 
That  will  slacken  my  usual  speed ;  and  the 
race  will  be  a  fair  one." 

Saying  this  he  laid  a  firm  hand  upon  the 
muskrat's  shoulder  and  started  off  along 
the  edge  of  the  lake.  When  they  reached 
the  opposite  side  Iktomi  pried  about  in 
search  of  a  heavy  stone. 

He  found  one  half-buried  in  the  shallow 
water.  Pulling  it  out  upon  dry  land,  he 
wrapped  it  in  his  blanket. 

"  Now,  my  friend,  you  shall  run  on  the 
left  side  of  the  lake,  I  on  the  other.  The 
race  is  for  the  boiled  fish  in  yonder  kettle  !  " 
said  Iktomi. 

The  muskrat  helped  to  lift  the  heavy 
stone  upon  Iktomi's  back.  Then  they 
parted.  Each  took  a  narrow  path  through 
the  tall  reeds  fringing  the  shore.  Iktomi 
found  his  load  a  heavy  one.  Perspiration 
hung  like  beads  on  his  brow.  His  chest 
heaved  hard  and  fast. 

30 


Iktomi  and  the  Muskrat 

He  looked  across  the  lake  to  see  how  far 
the  muskrat  had  gone,  but  nowhere  did  he 
see  any  sign  of  him.  "  Well,  he  is  running 
low  under  the  wild  rice  !  "  said  lie.  Yet  as 
he  scanned  the  tall  grasses  on  the  lake 
shore,  he  saw  not  one  stir  as  if  to  make 
way  for  the  runner.  "Ah,  has  he  gone  so 
fast  ahead  that  the  disturbed  grasses  in 
his  trail  have  quieted  again?"  exclaimed 
Iktomi.  With  that  thought  he  quickly 
dropped  the  heavy  stone.  "  No  more  of 
this !  "  said  he,  patting  his  chest  with  both 
hands. 

Off  with  a  springing  bound,  he  ran  swiftly 
toward  the  goal.  Tufts  of  reeds  and  grass 
fell  flat  under  his  feet.  Hardly  had  they 
raised  their  heads  when  Iktomi  was  many 
paces  gone. 

Soon  he  reached  the  heap  of  cold  ashes. 
Iktomi  halted  stiff  as  if  he  had  struck  an 
invisible  cliff.  His  black  eyes  showed  a 
ring  of  white  about  them  as  he  stared  at 

31 


Old  Indian  Legends 

the  empty  ground.  There  was  no  pot  of 
boiled  fish !  There  was  no  water-man  in 
sight !  "  Oh,  if  only  I  had  shared  my  food 
like  a  real  Dakota,  I  would  not  have  lost 
it  all !  Why  did  I  not  know  the  muskrat 
would  run  through  the  water?  He  swims 
faster  than  I  could  ever  run !  That  is 
what  he  has  done.  He  has  laughed  at  me 
for  carrying  a  weight  on  my  back  while  he 
shot  hither  like  an  arrow  !  " 

Crying  thus  to  himself,  Iktomi  stepped 
to  the  water's  brink.  He  stooped  forward 
with  a  hand  on  each  bent  knee  and  peeped 
far  into  the  deep  water. 

"  There  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  see  you,  my 
friend,  sitting  with  your  ankles  wound 
around  my  little  pot  of  fish !  My  friend, 
I  am  hungry.  Give  me  a  bone !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  "  laughed  the  water-man, 
the  muskrat.  The  sound  did  not  rise  up 
out  of  the  lake,  for  it  came  down  from 
overhead.  With  his  hands  still  on  his 

32 


Iktomi  and  the  Muskrat 

knees,  Iktomi  turned  his  face  upward  into 
the  great  willow  tree.  Opening  wide  his 
mouth  he  begged,  "  My  friend,  my  friend, 
give  me  a  bone  to  gnaw ! " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  the  muskrat,  and 
leaning  over  the  limb  he  sat  upon,  he  let 
fall  a  small  sharp  bone  which  dropped  right 
into  Iktomi' s  throat.  Iktomi  almost  choked 
to  death  before  he  could  get  it  out.  In  the 
tree  the  muskrat  sat  laughing  loud.  "  Next 
time,  say  to  a  visiting  friend,  '  Be  seated 
beside  me,  my  friend.  Let  me  share  with 
you  my  food.' ' 


33 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   COYOTE 


35 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   COYOTE 

AFAR  off  upon  a  large  level  land,  a  sum 
mer  sun  was  shining  bright.  Here  and  there 
over  the  rolling  green  were  tall  bunches  of 
coarse  gray  weeds.  Iktomi  in  his  fringed 
buckskins  walked  alone  across  the  prairie 
with  a  black  bare  head  glossy  in  the  sun 
light.  He  walked  through  the  grass  with 
out  following  any  well-worn  footpath. 

From  one  large  bunch  of  coarse  weeds  to 
another  he  wound  his  way  about  the  great 
plain.  He  lifted  his  foot  lightly  and  placed 
it  gently  forward  like  a  wildcat  prowling 
noiselessly  through  the  thick  grass.  He 
stopped  a  few  steps  away  from  a  very  large 
bunch  of  wild  sage.  From  shoulder  to 
shoulder  he  tilted  his  head.  Still  farther 
he  bent  from  side  to  side,  first  low  over 

37 


Old  Indian  Legends 

one  hip  and  then  over  the  other.  Far  for 
ward  he  stooped,  stretching  his  long  thin 
neck  like  a  duck,  to  see  what  lay  under 
a  fur  coat  beyond  the  bunch  of  coarse 
grass. 

A  sleek  gray-faced  prairie  wolf !  his 
pointed  black  nose  tucked  in  between  his 
four  feet  drawn  snugly  together ;  his  hand 
some  bushy  tail  wound  over  his  nose  and 
feet ;  a  coyote  fast  asleep  in  the  shadow  of 
a  bunch  of  grass  !  —  this  is  what  Iktomi 
spied.  Carefully  he  raised  one  foot  and  cau 
tiously  reached  out  with  his  toes.  Gently, 
gently  he  lifted  the  foot  behind  and  placed 
it  before  the  other.  Thus  he  came  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  round  fur  ball  lying 
motionless  under  the  sage  grass. 

Now  Iktomi  stood  beside  it,  looking  at 
the  closed  eyelids  that  did  not  quiver  the 
least  bit.  Pressing  his  lips  into  straight 
lines  and  nodding  his  head  slowly,  he  bent 
over  the  wolf.  He  held  his  ear  close  to 


Iktomi  and  the  Coyote 

the  coyote's  nose,  but  not  a  breath  of  air 
stirred  from  it. 

"Dead  !"  said  he  at  last.  "Dead,  but  not 
long  since  he  ran  over  these  plains !  See ! 
there  in  his  paw  is  caught  a  fresh  feather. 
He  is  nice  fat  meat !  "  Taking  hold  of  the 
paw  with  the  bird  feather  fast  on  it,  he 
exclaimed,  "Why,  he  is  still  warm!  I'll 
carry  him  to  my  dwelling  and  have  a  roast 
for  my  evening  meal.  Ah-ha  !"  he  laughed, 
as  he  seized  the  coyote  by  its  two  fore  paws 
and  its  two  hind  feet  and  swung  him  over 
head  across  his  shoulders.  The  wolf  was 
large  and  the  teepee  was  far  across  the 
prairie.  Iktomi  trudged  along  with  his  bur 
den,  smacking  his  hungry  lips  together.  He 
blinked  his  eyes  hard  to  keep  out  the  salty 
perspiration  streaming  down  his  face. 

All  the  while  the  coyote  on  his  back  lay 
gazing  into  the  sky  with  wide  open  eyes. 
His  long  white  teeth  fairly  gleamed  as  he 
smiled  and  smiled. 

39 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"  To  ride  on  one's  own  feet  is  tiresome, 
but  to  be  carried  like  a  warrior  from  a 
brave  fight  is  great  fun !  "  said  the  coyote 
in  his  heart.  He  had  never  been  borne  on 
any  one's  back  before  and  the  new  experi 
ence  delighted  him.  He  lay  there  lazily  on 
Iktomi's  shoulders,  now  and  then  blinking 
blue  winks.  Did  you  never  see  a  birdie 
blink  a  blue  wink  ?  This  is  how  it  first 
became  a  saying  among  the  plains  people. 
When  a  bird  stands  aloof  watching  your 
strange  ways,  a  thin  bluish  white  tissue 
slips  quickly  over  his  eyes  and  as  quickly 
off  again ;  so  quick  that  you  think  it  was 
only  a  mysterious  blue  wink.  Sometimes 
when  children  grow  drowsy  they  blink  blue 
winks,  while  others  who  are  too  proud  to 
look  with  friendly  eyes  upon  people  blink 
in  this  cold  bird-manner. 

The  coyote  was  affected  by  both  sleepi 
ness  and  pride.  His  winks  were  almost 
as  blue  as  the  sky.  In  the  midst  of  his 

40 


Iktomi  and  the  Coyote 

new  pleasure  the  swaying  motion  ceased. 
Iktomi  had  reached  his  dwelling  place.  The 
coyote  felt  drowsy  no  longer,  for  in  the  next 
instant  he  was  slipping  out  of  Iktomi' s 
hands.  He  was  falling,  falling  through 
space,  and  then  he  struck  the  ground  with 
such  a  bump  he  did  not  wish  to  breathe  for 
a  while.  He  wondered  what  Iktomi  would 
do,  thus  he  lay  still  where  he  fell.  Hum 
ming  a  dance-song,  one  from  his  bundle  of 
mystery  songs,  Iktomi  hopped  and  darted 
about  at  an  imaginary  dance  and  feast. 
He  gathered  dry  willow  sticks  and  broke 
them  in  two  against  his  knee.  He  built  a 
large  fire  out  of  doors.  The  flames  leaped 
up  high  in  red  and  yellow  streaks.  Now 
Iktomi  returned  to  the  coyote  who  had  been 
looking  on  through  his  eyelashes. 

Taking  him  again  by  his  paws  and  hind 
feet,  he  swung  him  to  and  fro.  Then  as 
the  wolf  swung  toward  the  red  flames, 
Iktomi  let  him  go.  Once  again  the  coyote 

41 


Old  Indian  Legends 

fell  through  space.  Hot  air  smote  his  nos 
trils.  He  saw  red  dancing  fire,  and  now  he 
struck  a  bed  of  cracking  embers.  With  a 
quick  turn  he  leaped  out  of  the  flames. 
From  his  heels  were  scattered  a  shower  of 
red  coals  upon  Iktomi's  bare  arms  and 
shoulders.  Dumfounded,  Iktomi  thought 
he  saw  a  spirit  walk  out  of  his  fire.  His 
jaws  fell  apart.  He  thrust  a  palm  to  his 
face,  hard  over  his  mouth  !  He  could  scarce 
keep  from  shrieking. 

Rolling  over  and  over  on  the  grass  and 
rubbing  the  sides  of  his  head  against  the 
ground,  the  coyote  soon  put  out  the  fire  on 
his  fur.  Iktomi's  eyes  were  almost  ready 
to  jump  out  of  his  head  as  he  stood  cooling 
a  burn  on  his  brown  arm  with  his  breath. 

Sitting  on  his  haunches,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  fire  from  where  Iktomi  stood, 
the  coyote  began  to  laugh  at  him. 

"Another  day,  my  friend,  do  not  take 
too  much  for  granted.  Make  sure  the 

42 


A  shower  of  red  coals  upon  Iktomi's  bare  arms  and  shoulders 


Iktomi  and  the  Coyote 

enemy  is  stone  dead  before  you  make  a 
fire ! " 

Then  off  he  ran  so  swiftly  that  his  long 
bushy  tail  hung  out  in  a  straight  line  with 
his  back. 


43 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   FAWN 


45 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   FAWN 

IN  one  of  his  wanderings  through  the 
wooded  lands,  Iktomi  saw  a  rare  bird  sit 
ting  high  in  a  tree-top.  Its  long  fan-like 
tail  feathers  had  caught  all  the  beautiful 
colors  of  the  rainbow.  Handsome  in  the 
glistening  summer  sun  sat  the  bird  of  rain 
bow  plumage.  Iktomi  hurried  hither  with 
his  eyes  fast  on  the  bird. 

He  stood  beneath  the  tree  looking  long 
and  wistfully  at  the  peacock's  bright  feath 
ers.  At  length  he  heaved  a  sigh  and 
began :  "  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  such  pretty 
feathers !  How  I  wish  I  were  not  I !  If 
only  I  were  a  handsome  feathered  creature 
how  happy  I  would  be !  I  'd  be  so  glad  to 
sit  upon  a  very  high  tree  and  bask  in  the 
summer  sun  like  you ! "  said  he  suddenly, 

47 


Old  Indian  Legends 

pointing  his  bony  finger  up  toward  the 
peacock,  who  was  eyeing  the  stranger  below, 
turning  his  head  from  side  to  side. 

"  I  beg  of  you  make  me  into  a  bird  with 
green  and  purple  feathers  like  yours ! " 
implored  Iktomi,  tired  now  of  playing  the 
brave  in  beaded  buckskins.  The  peacock 
then  spoke  to  Iktomi :  "I  have  a  magic 
power.  My  touch  will  change  you  in  a 
moment  into  the  most  beautiful  peacock  if 
you  can  keep  one  condition." 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  "  shouted  Iktomi,  jumping 
up  and  down,  patting  his  lips  with  his 
palm,  which  caused  his  voice  to  vibrate  in 
a  peculiar  fashion.  "  Yes  !  yes  !  I  could 
keep  ten  conditions  if  only  you  would 
change  me  into  a  bird  with  long,  bright 
tail  feathers.  Oh,  I  am  so  ugly !  I  am  so 
tired  of  being  myself  !  Change  me  !  Do  !  " 

Hereupon  the  peacock  spread  out  both  his 
wings,  and  scarce  moving  them,  he  sailed 
slowly  down  upon  the  ground.  Right  beside 

48 


Iktovii  and  the  Pawn 

Iktomi  lie  alighted.  Very  low  in  Iktomi's 
ear  the  peacock  whispered,  "Are  you  willing 
to  keep  one  condition,  though  hard  it  be  ?  " 

"  Yes !  yes  !  I  've  told  you  ten  of  them 
if  need  be ! "  exclaimed  Iktomi,  with  some 
impatience. 

"  Then  I  pronounce  you  a  handsome 
feathered  bird.  No  longer  are  you  Iktomi 
the  mischief-maker."  Saying  this  the  pea 
cock  touched  Iktomi  with  the  tips  of  his 
wings. 

Iktomi  vanished  at  the  touch.  There 
stood  beneath  the  tree  two  handsome  pea 
cocks.  While  one  of  the  pair  strutted  about 
with  a  head  turned  aside  as  if  dazzled  by  his 
own  bright-tinted  tail  feathers,  the  other 
bird  soared  slowly  upward.  He  sat  quiet 
and  unconscious  of  his  gay  plumage.  He 
seemed  content  to  perch  there  on  a  large 
limb  in  the  warm  sunshine. 

After  a  little  while  the  vain  peacock, 
dizzy  with  his  bright  colors,  spread  out  his 

49 


Old  Indian  Legends 

wings  and  lit  on  the  same  branch  with  the 
elder  bird. 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  "how  hard  to  fly! 
Brightly  tinted  feathers  are  handsome,  but 
I  wish  they  were  light  enough  to  fly ! " 
Just  there  the  elder  bird  interrupted  him. 
"That  is  the  one  condition.  Never  try  to 
fly  like  other  birds.  Upon  the  day  you 
try  to  fly  you  shall  be  changed  into  your 
former  self." 

"Oh,  what  a  shame  that  bright  feathers 
cannot  fly  into  the  sky !  "  cried  the  peacock. 
Already  he  grew  restless.  He  longed  to 
soar  through  space.  He  yearned  to  fly 
above  the  trees  high  upward  to  the  sun. 

"Oh,  there  I  see  a  flock  of  birds  flying 
thither  !  Oh  !  oh  !  "  said  he,  flapping  his 
wings,  "  I  must  try  my  wings  !  I  am  tired 
of  bright  tail  feathers.  I  want  to  try 
my  wings." 

"No,  no  !  "  clucked  the  elder  bird.  The 
flock  of  chattering  birds  flew  by  with 

50 


Iktomi  and  the  Fawn 

whirring  wings.  "Oop  !  oop  !  "  called  some 
to  their  mates. 

Possessed  by  an  irrepressible  impulse  the 
Iktomi  peacock  called  out,  "  He  !  I  want 
to  come  !  Wait  for  me  !  "  and  with  that  he 
gave  a  lunge  into  the  air.  The  flock  of 
flying  feathers  wheeled  about  and  lowered 
over  the  tree  whence  came  the  peacock's 
cry.  Only  one  rare  bird  sat  on  the  tree, 
and  beneath,  on  the  ground,  stood  a  brave 
in  brown  buckskins. 

"I  am  my  old  self  again!"  groaned 
Iktomi  in  a  sad  voice.  "  Make  me  over, 
pretty  bird.  Try  me  this  once  again ! " 
he  pleaded  in  vain. 

"Old  Iktomi  wants  to  fly!  Ah!  We 
cannot  wait  for  him !  "  sang  the  birds  as 
they  flew  away. 

Muttering  unhappy  vows  to  himself,  Ik 
tomi  had  not  gone  far  when  he  chanced 
upon  a  bunch  of  long  slender  arrows.  One 
by  one  they  rose  in  the  air  and  shot  a 

51 


Old  Indian  Legends 

straight  line  over  the  prairie.  Others  shot 
up  into  the  blue  sky  and  were  soon  lost  to 
sight.  Only  one  was  left.  He  was  mak 
ing  ready  for  his  flight  when  Iktomi  rushed 
upon  him  and  wailed,  "I  want  to  be  an 
arrow  !  Make  me  into  an  arrow  !  I  want 
to  pierce  the  blue  Blue  overhead.  I  want 
to  strike  yonder  summer  sun  in  its  center. 
Make  me  into  an  arrow  !  " 

"Can  you  keep  a  condition?  One  con 
dition,  though  hard  it  be?"  the  arrow 
turned  to  ask. 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  "  shouted  Iktomi,  delighted. 

Hereupon  the  slender  arrow  tapped  him 
gently  with  his  sharp  flint  beak.  There 
was  no  Iktomi,  but  two  arrows  stood  ready 
to  fly.  "  Now,  young  arrow,  this  is  the 
one  condition.  Your  flight  must  always 
be  in  a  straight  line.  Never  turn  a  curve 
nor  jump  about  like  a  young  fawn,"  said 
the  arrow  magician.  He  spoke  slowly  and 
sternly. 

52 


Iktomi  and  the  Fawn 

At  once  he  set  about  to  teach  the  new 
arrow  how  to  shoot  in  a  long  straight 
line. 

"  This  is  the  way  to  pierce  the  Blue  over 
head,"  said  he ;  and  off  he  spun  high  into 
the  sky. 

While  he  was  gone  a  herd  of  deer  came 
trotting  by.  Behind  them  played  the  young 
fawns  together.  They  frolicked  about  like 
kittens.  They  bounced  on  all  fours  like 
balls.  Then  they  pitched  forward,  kicking 
their  heels  in  the  air.  The  Iktomi  arrow 
watched  them  so  happy  on  the  ground. 
Looking  quickly  up  into  the  sky,  he  said  in 
his  heart,  "  The  magician  is  out  of  sight. 
I  '11  just  romp  and  frolic  with  these  fawns 
until  he  returns.  Fawns !  Friends,  do 
not  fear  me.  I  want  to  jump  and  leap 
with  you.  I  long  to  be  happy  as  you  are," 
said  he.  The  young  fawns  stopped  with 
stiff  legs  and  stared  at  the  speaking  arrow 
with  large  brown  wondering  eyes.  "  See  ! 

53 


Old  Indian  Legends 

I  can  jump  as  well  as  you ! "  went  on 
Iktomi.  He  gave  one  tiny  leap  like  a  fawn. 
All  of  a  sudden  the  fawns  snorted  with 
extended  nostrils  at  what  they  beheld. 
There  among  them  stood  Iktomi  in  brown 
buckskins,  and  the  strange  talking  arrow 
was  gone. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  myself.  My  old  self !  "  cried 
Iktomi,  pinching  himself  and  plucking 
imaginary  pieces  out  of  his  jacket. 

"  Hin-hin-hin !     I  wanted  to  fly !  " 

The  real  arrow  now  returned  to  the  earth. 
He  alighted  very  near  Iktomi.  From  the 
high  sky  he  had  seen  the  fawns  playing  on 
the  green.  He  had  seen  Iktomi  make  his 
one  leap,  and  the  charm  was  broken. 
Iktomi  became  his  former  self. 

"  Arrow,  my  friend,  change  me  once 
more  !  "  begged  Iktomi. 

"No,  no  more,"  replied  the  arrow.  Then 
away  he  shot  through  the  air  in  the  direc 
tion  his  comrades  had  flown. 

54 


~  J* 


••r- 


1  < 


i     <l 


I 


There  among  them  stood  Iktomi  in  brown  buckskins 


Iktomi  and  the  Fawn 

By  this  time  the  fawns  gathered  close 
around  Iktomi.  They  poked  their  noses 
at  him  trying  to  know  who  he  was. 

Iktomi' s  tears  were  like  a  spring  shower. 
A  new  desire  dried  them  quickly  away. 
Stepping  boldly  to  the  largest  fawn,  he 
looked  closely  at  the  little  brown  spots  all 
over  the  furry  face. 

"  Oh,  fawn !  What  beautiful  brown  spots 
on  your  face  !  Fawn,  dear  little  fawn,  can 
you  tell  me  how  those  brown  spots  were 
made  on  your  face  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  fawn.  "When  I  was 
very,  very  small,  my  mother  marked  them 
on  my  face  with  a  red  hot  fire.  She  dug  a 
large  hole  in  the  ground  and  made  a  soft 
bed  of  grass  and  twigs  in  it.  Then  she 
placed  me  gently  there.  She  covered  me 
over  with  dry  sweet  grass  and  piled  dry 
cedars  on  top.  From  a  neighbor's  fire  she 
brought  hither  a  red,  red  ember.  This  she 
tucked  carefully  in  at  my  head.  This  is 

55 


Old  Indian  Legends 

how  the  brown  spots  were  made  on  my 
face." 

"  Now,  fawn,  my  friend,  will  you  do  the 
same  for  me  ?  Won't  you  mark  my  face 
with  brown,  brown  spots  just  like  yours  ?  " 
asked  Iktomi,  always  eager  to  be  like  other 
people. 

"  Yes.  I  can  dig  the  ground  and  fill  it 
with  dry  grass  and  sticks.  If  you  will 
jump  into  the  pit,  I  '11  cover  you  with 
sweet  smelling  grass  and  cedar  wood," 
answered  the  fawn. 

"Say,"  interrupted  Ikto,  "will  you  be 
sure  to  cover  me  with  a  great  deal  of  dry 
grass  and  twigs  ?  You  will  make  sure  that 
the  spots  will  be  as  brown  as  those  you 


wear." 


"Oh,  yes.  I  '11  pile  up  grass  and  willows 
once  oftener  than  my  mother  did." 

"  Now  let  us  dig  the  hole,  pull  the 
grass,  and  gather  sticks,"  cried  Iktomi  in 
glee. 

66 


Iktomi  and  the  Fawn 

Thus  with  his  own  hands  he  aids  in 
making  his  grave.  After  the  hole  was  dug 
and  cushioned  with  grass,  Iktomi,  mut 
tering  something  about  brown  spots,  leaped 
down  into  it.  Lengthwise,  flat  on  his  back, 
he  lay.  While  the  fawn  covered  him  over 
with  cedars,  a  far-away  voice  came  up 
through  them,  "  Brown,  brown  spots  to 
wear  forever !  "  A  red  ember  was  tucked 
under  the  dry  grass.  Off  scampered  the 
fawns  after  their  mothers ;  and  when  a 
great  distance  away  they  looked  backward. 
They  saw  a  blue  smoke  rising,  writhing 
upward  till  it  vanished  in  the  blue  ether. 

"  Is  that  Iktomi' s  spirit  ? "  asked  one 
fawn  of  another. 

"  No  !  I  think  he  would  jump  out  before 
he  could  burn  into  smoke  and  cinders," 
answered  his  comrade. 


57 


THE  BADGER  AND  THE  BEAR 


THE   BADGER  AND   THE   BEAR 

ON  the  edge  of  a  forest  there  lived  a 
large  family  of  badgers.  In  the  ground 
their  dwelling  was  made.  Its  walls  and 
roof  were  covered  with  rocks  and  straw. 

Old  father  badger  was  a  great  hunter. 
He  knew  well  how  to  track  the  deer  and 
buffalo.  Every  day  he  came  home  carry 
ing  on  his  back  some  wild  game.  This 
kept  mother  badger  very  busy,  and  the 
baby  badgers  very  chubby.  While  the  well- 
fed  children  played  about,  digging  little 
make-believe  dwellings,  their  mother  hung 
thin  sliced  meats  upon  long  willow  racks. 
As  fast  as  the  meats  were  dried  and  sea 
soned  by  sun  and  wind,  she  packed  them 
carefully  away  in  a  large  thick  bag. 

This  bag  was  like  a  huge  stiff  envelope, 
but  far  more  beautiful  to  see,  for  it  was 

61 


Old  Indian  Legends 

painted  all  over  with  many  bright  colors. 
These  firmly  tied  bags  of  dried  meat  were 
laid  upon  the  rocks  in  the  walls  of  the 
dwelling.  In  this  way  they  were  both 
useful  and  decorative. 

One  day  father  badger  did  not  go  off  for 
a  hunt.  He  stayed  at  home,  making  new 
arrows.  His  children  sat  about  him  on  the 
ground  floor.  Their  small  black  eyes  danced 
with  delight  as  they  watched  the  gay  colors 
painted  upon  the  arrows. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  was  heard  a  heavy 
footfall  near  the  entrance  way.  The  oval- 
shaped  door-frame  was  pushed  aside.  In 
stepped  a  large  black  foot  with  great  big 
claws.  Then  the  other  clumsy  foot  came 
next.  All  the  while  the  baby  badgers  stared 
hard  at  the  unexpected  comer.  After  the 
second  foot,  in  peeped  the  head  of  a  big 
black  bear !  His  black  nose  was  dry  and 
parched.  Silently  he  entered  the  dwelling 
and  sat  down  on  the  ground  by  the  doorway. 


The  Badger  and  the  Bear 

His  black  eyes  never  left  the  painted  bags 
on  the  rocky  walls.  He  guessed  what  was 
in  them.  He  was  a  very  hungry  bear.  See 
ing  the  racks  of  red  meat  hanging  in  the 
yard,  he  had  come  to  visit  the  badger  family. 

Though  he  was  a  stranger  and  his  strong 
paws  and  .jaws  frightened  the  small  badgers, 
the  father  said,  "  How,  how,  friend  !  Your 
lips  and  nose  look  feverish  and  hungry. 
Will  you  eat  with  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  friend,"  said  the  bear.  "  I  am 
starved.  I  saw  your  racks  of  red  fresh  meat, 
and  knowing  your  heart  is  kind,  I  came 
hither.  Give  me  meat  to  eat,  my  friend." 

Hereupon  the  mother  badger  took  long 
strides  across  the  room,  and  as  she  had  to 
pass  in  front  of  the  strange  visitor,  she 
said :  "Ah  han !  Allow  me  to  pass  !  "  which 
was  an  apology. 

"How,  how!"  replied  the  bear,  drawing 
himself  closer  to  the  wall  and  crossing  his 
shins  together. 

63 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Mother  badger  chose  the  most  tender  red 
meat,  and  soon  over  a  bed  of  coals  she 
broiled  the  venison. 

That  day  the  bear  had  all  he  could  eat. 
At  nightfall  he  rose,  and  smacking  his  lips 
together, — that  is  the  noisy  way  of  saying 
"the  food  was  very  good!"  —  he  left  the 
badger  dwelling.  The  baby  badgers,  peep 
ing  through  the  door-flap  after  the  shaggy 
bear,  saw  him  disappear  into  the  woods 
near  by. 

Day  after  day  the  crackling  of  twigs  in 
the  forest  told  of  heavy  footsteps.  Out 
would  come  the  same  black  bear.  He 
never  lifted  the  door-flap,  but  thrusting  it 
aside  entered  slowly  in.  Always  in  the 
same  place  by  the  entrance  way  he  sat 
down  with  crossed  shins. 

His  daily  visits  were  so  regular  that 
mother  badger  placed  a  fur  rug  in  his 
place.  She  did  not  wish  a  guest  in  her 
dwelling  to  sit  upon  the  bare  hard  ground. 

64 


Over  a  bed  of  coals  she  broiled  the  venison 


The  Badger  and  the  Bear 

At  last  one  time  when  the  bear  returned, 
his  nose  was  bright  and  black.  His  coat 
was  glossy.  He  had  grown  fat  upon  the 
badger's  hospitality. 

As  he  entered  the  dwelling  a  pair  of 
wicked  gleams  shot  out  of  his  shaggy  head. 
Surprised  by  the  strange  behavior  of  the 
guest  who  remained  standing  upon  the  rug, 
leaning  his  round  back  against  the  wall, 
father  badger  queried  :  "  How,  my  friend  ! 
What  ? " 

The  bear  took  one  stride  forward  and 
shook  his  paw  in  the  badger's  face.  He 
said  :  "  I  am  strong,  very  strong  ! " 

"Yes,  yes,  so  you  are,"  replied  the  bad 
ger.  From  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
mother  badger  muttered  over  her  bead 
work:  "Yes,  you  grew  strong  from  our 
well-filled  bowls." 

The  bear  smiled,  showing  a  row  of  large 
sharp  teeth, 

"  I  have  no  dwelling.     I  have  no  bags  of 

65 


Old  Indian  Legends 

dried  meat.  I  have  no  arrows.  All  these 
I  have  found  here  on  this  spot/'  said  he, 
stamping  his  heavy  foot.  "I  want  them ! 
See  !  I  am  strong  !  "  repeated  he,  lifting 
both  his  terrible  paws. 

Quietly  the  father  badger  spoke :  "I  fed 
you.  I  called  you  friend,  though  you  came 
here  a  stranger  and  a  beggar.  For  the 
sake  of  my  little  ones  leave  us  in  peace." 

Mother  badger,  in  her  excited  way,  had 
pierced  hard  through  the  buckskin  and  stuck 
her  fingers  repeatedly  with  her  sharp  awl 
until  she  had  laid  aside  her  work.  Now, 
while  her  husband  was  talking  to  the  bear, 
she  motioned  with  her  hands  to  the  children. 
On  tiptoe  they  hastened  to  her  side. 

For  reply  came  a  low  growl.  It  grew 
louder  and  more  fierce.  "  Wa-ough  !  "  he 
roared,  and  by  force  hurled  the  badgers 
out.  First  the  father  badger ;  then  the 
mother.  The  little  badgers  he  tossed  by 
pairs.  He  threw  them  hard  upon  the 

66 


The  Badger  and  the  Bear 

ground.  Standing  in  the  entrance  way 
and  showing  his  ugly  teeth,  he  snarled, 
"Be  gone!" 

The  father  and  mother  badger,  having 
gained  their  feet,  picked  up  their  kicking 
little  babes,  and,  wailing  aloud,  drew  the 
air  into  their  flattened  lungs  till  they  could 
stand  alone  upon  their  feet.  No  sooner  had 
the  baby  badgers  caught  their  breath  than 
they  howled  and  shrieked  with  pain  and 
fright.  Ah  !  what  a  dismal  cry  was  theirs 
as  the  whole  badger  family  went  forth  wail 
ing  from  out  their  own  dwelling !  A  little 
distance  away  from  their  stolen  house  the 
father  badger  built  a  small  round  hut.  He 
made  it  of  bent  willows  and  covered  it  w  ith 
dry  grass  and  twigs. 

This  was  shelter  for  the  night ;  but  alas  ! 
it  was  empty  of  food  and  arrows.  All  day 
father  badger  prowled  through  the  forest, 
but  without  his  arrows  he  could  not  get 
food  for  his  children.  Upon  his  return, 

67 


Old  Indian  Legends 

the  cry  of  the  little  ones  for  meat,  the  sad 
quiet  of  the  mother  with  bowed  head,  hurt 
him  like  a  poisoned  arrow  wound. 

"  I  '11  beg  meat  for  you !  "  said  he  in  an 
unsteady  voice.  Covering  his  head  and 
entire  body  in  a  long  loose  robe  he  halted 
beside  the  big  black  bear.  The  bear  was 
slicing  red  meat  to  hang  upon  the  rack. 
He  did  not  pause  for  a  look  at  the  comer. 
As  the  badger  stood  there  unrecognized,  he 
saw  that  the  bear  had  brought  with  him 
his  whole  family.  Little  cubs  played  under 
the  high-hanging  new  meats.  They  laughed 
and  pointed  with  their  wee  noses  upward  at 
the  thin  sliced  meats  upon  the  poles. 

"  Have  you  no  heart,  Black  Bear  ?  My 
children  are  starving.  Give  me  a  small 
piece  of  meat  for  them,"  begged  the  badger. 

"  Wa-ough  !  "  growled  the  angry  bear,  and 
pounced  upon  the  badger.  "  Be  gone ! " 
said  he,  and  with  his  big  hind  foot  he  sent 
father  badger  sprawling  on  the  ground. 

68 


The  Badger  and  the  Bear 

All  the  little  ruffian  bears  hooted  and 
shouted  "ha-ha!"  to  see  the  beggar  fall 
upon  his  face.  There  was  one,  however,  who 
did  not  even  smile.  He  was  the  youngest 
cub.  His  fur  coat  was  not  as  black  and 
glossy  as  those  his  elders  wore.  The  hair 
was  dry  and  dingy.  It  looked  much  more 
like  kinky  wool.  He  was  the  ugly  cub.  Poor 
little  baby  bear !  he  had  always  been  laughed 
at  by  his  older  brothers.  He  could  not  help 
being  himself.  He  could  not  change  the  dif 
ferences  between  himself  and  his  brothers. 
Thus  again,  though  the  rest  laughed  aloud 
at  the  badger's  fall,  he  did  not  see  the  joke. 
His  face  was  long  and  earnest.  In  his  heart 
he  was  sad  to  see  the  badgers  crying  and 
starving.  In  his  breast  spread  a  burning 
desire  to  share  his  food  with  them. 

"I  shall  not  ask  my  father  for  meat  to 
give  away.  He  would  say  '  No ! '  Then 
my  brothers  would  laugh  at  me,"  said  the 
ugly  baby  bear  to  himself. 


Old  Indian  Legends 

In  an  instant,  as  if  his  good  intention  had 
passed  from  him,  he  was  singing  happily 
and  skipping  around  his  father  at  work. 
Singing  in  his  small  high  voice  and  drag 
ging  his  feet  in  long  strides  after  him,  as  if 
a  prankish  spirit  oozed  out  from  his  heels, 
he  strayed  off  through  the  tall  grass.  He 
was  ambling  toward  the  small  round  hut. 
When  directly  in  front  of  the  entrance  way, 
he  made  a  quick  side  kick  with  his  left  hind 
leg.  Lo !  there  fell  into  the  badger's  hut  a 
piece  of  fresh  meat.  It  was  tough  meat, 
full  of  sinews,  yet  it  was  the  only  piece  he 
could  take  without  his  father's  notice. 

Thus  having  given  meat  to  the  hungry 
badgers,  the  ugly  baby  bear  ran  quickly 
away  to  his  father  again. 

On  the  following  day  the  father  badger 
came  back  once  more.  He  stood  watching 
the  big  bear  cutting  thin  slices  of  meat. 

"  Give  —  "he  began,  when  the  bear  turn 
ing  upon  him  with  a  growl,  thrust  him 

70 


The  Badger  and  the  Bear 

cruelly  aside.  The  badger  fell  on  his  hands. 
He  fell  where  the  grass  was  wet  with  the 
blood  of  the  newly  carved  buffalo.  His 
keen  starving  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  little 
red  clot  lying  bright  upon  the  green.  Look 
ing  fearfully  toward  the  bear  and  seeing  his 
head  was  turned  away,  he  snatched  up  the 
small  thick  blood.  Underneath  his  girdled 
blanket  he  hid  it  in  his  hand. 

On  his  return  to  his  family,  he  said 
within  himself  :  "  I  '11  pray  the  Great  Spirit 
to  bless  it."  Thus  he  built  a  small  round 
lodge.  Sprinkling  water  upon  the  heated 
heap  of  sacred  stones  within,  he  made  ready 
to  purge  his  body.  "  The  buffalo  blood, 
too,  must  be  purified  before  I  ask  a  blessing 
upon  it,"  thought  the  badger.  He  carried 
it  into  the  sacred  vapor  lodge.  After  plac 
ing  it  near  the  sacred  stones,  he  sat  down 
beside  it.  After  a  long  silence,  he  mut 
tered  :  "  Great  Spirit,  bless  this  little  buffalo 
blood."  Then  he  arose,  and  with  a  quiet 

71 


Old  Indian  Legends 

dignity  stepped  out  of  the  lodge.  Close 
behind  him  some  one  followed.  The  bad 
ger  turned  to  look  over  his  shoulder  and  to 
his  great  joy  he  beheld  a  Dakota  brave  in 
handsome  buckskins.  In  his  hand  he  car 
ried  a  magic  arrow.  Across  his  back 
dangled  a  long  fringed  quiver.  In  answer 
to  the  badger's  prayer,  the  avenger  had 
sprung  from  out  the  red  globules. 

"  My  son ! "  exclaimed  the  badger  with 
extended  right  hand. 

"  How,  father,"  replied  the  brave ;  "  I 
am  your  avenger  !  " 

Immediately  the  badger  told  the  sad 
story  of  his  hungry  little  ones  and  the 
stingy  bear. 

Listening  closely  the  young  man  stood 
looking  steadily  upon  the  ground. 

At  length  the  father  badger  moved  away. 

"  Where  ?  "  queried  the  avenger. 

66  My  son,  we  have  no  food.  I  am  going 
again  to  beg  for  meat,"  answered  the  badger. 

72 


TJie  Badger  and  the  Bear 

"  Then  I  go  with  you,"  replied  the  young 
brave.  This  made  the  old  badger  happy. 
He  was  proud  of  his  son.  He  was  delighted 
to  be  called  " father"  by  the  first  human 
creature. 

The  bear  saw  the  badger  coming  in  the 
distance.  He  narrowed  his  eyes  at  the  tall 
stranger  walking  beside  him.  He  spied  the 
arrow.  At  once  he  guessed  it  was  the 
avenger  of  whom  he  had  heard  long,  long 
ago.  As  they  approached,  the  bear  stood 
erect  with  a  hand  on  his  thigh.  He  smiled 
upon  them. 

"  How,  badger,  my  friend  !  Here  is  my 
knife.  Cut  your  favorite  pieces  from  the 
deer,"  said  he,  holding  out  a  long  thin 
blade. 

"How!"  said  the  badger  eagerly.  He 
wondered  what  had  inspired  the  big  bear 
to  such  a  generous  deed.  The  young 
avenger  waited  till  the  badger  took  the 
long  knife  in  his  hand. 

73 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Gazing  full  into  the  black  bear's  face,  he 
said :  "I  come  to  do  justice.  You  have 
returned  only  a  knife  to  my  poor  father. 
Now  return  to  him  his  dwelling."  His 
voice  was  deep  and  powerful.  In  his  black 
eyes  burned  a  steady  fire. 

The  long  strong  teeth  of  the  bear  rattled 
against  each  other,  and  his  shaggy  body 
shook  with  fear.  "Ahow  !  "  cried  he,  as  if 
he  had  been  shot.  Running  into  the  dwell 
ing  he  gasped,  breathless  and  trembling, 
"  Come  out,  all  of  you !  This  is  the  bad 
ger's  dwelling.  We  must  flee  to  the  forest 
for  fear  of  the  avenger  who  carries  the 
magic  arrow." 

Out  they  hurried,  all  the  bears,  and 
disappeared  into  the  woods. 

Singing  and  laughing,  the  badgers 
returned  to  their  own  dwelling. 

Then  the  avenger  left  them. 

"I  go,"  said  he  in  parting,  "over  the 
earth." 

74 


THE    TREE-BOUND 


75 


THE   TREE-BOUND 

IT  was  a  clear  summer  day.  The  blue, 
blue  sky  dropped  low  over  the  edge  of  the 
green  level  land.  A  large  yellow  sun  hung 
directly  overhead. 

The  singing  of  birds  filled  the  summer 
space  between  earth  and  sky  with  sweet 
music.  Again  and  again  sang  a  yellow- 
breasted  birdie  — "  Koda  Ni  Dakota  !  "  He 
insisted  upon  it.  "  Koda  Ni  Dakota ! " 
which  was  "  Friend,  you  're  a  Dakota ! 
Friend,  you  're  a  Dakota!  "  Perchance  the 
birdie  meant  the  avenger  with  the  magic 
arrow,  for  there  across  the  plain  he  strode. 
He  was  handsome  in  his  paint  and  feathers, 
proud  with  his  great  buckskin  quiver  on 
his  back  and  a  long  bow  in  his  hand.  Afar 
to  an  eastern  camp  of  cone-shaped  teepees 
he  was  going.  There  over  the  Indian 


Old  Indian  Legends 

village  hovered  a  large  red  eagle  threaten 
ing  the  safety  of  the  people.  Every  morn 
ing  rose  this  terrible  red  bird  out  of  a  high 
chalk  bluff  and  spreading  out  his  gigantic 
wings  soared  slowly  over  the  round  camp 
ground.  Then  it  was  that  the  people, 
terror-stricken,  ran  screaming  into  their 
lodges.  Covering  their  heads  with  their 
blankets,  they  sat  trembling  with  fear.  No 
one  dared  to  venture  out  till  the  red  eagle 
had  disappeared  beyond  the  west,  where 
meet  the  blue  and  green. 

In  vain  tried  the  chieftain  of  the  tribe  to 
find  among  his  warriors  a  powerful  marks 
man  who  could  send  a  death  arrow  to  the 
man-hungry  bird.  At  last  to  urge  his  men 
to  their  utmost  skill  he  bade  his  crier  pro 
claim  a  new  reward. 

Of  the  chieftain's  two  beautiful  daughters 
he  would  have  his  choice  who  brought  the 
dreaded  red  eagle  with  an  arrow  in  its 
breast. 

78 


The  Tree-Bound 

Upon  hearing  these  words,  the  men  of 
the  village,  both  young  and  old,  both  heroes 
and  cowards,  trimmed  new  arrows  for  the 
contest.  At  gray  dawn  there  stood  indis 
tinct  under  the  shadow  of  the  bluff  many 
human  figures ;  silent  as  ghosts  and  wrapped 
in  robes  girdled  tight  about  their  waists, 
they  waited  with  chosen  bow  and  arrow. 

Some  cunning  old  warriors  stayed  not 
with  the  group.  They  crouched  low  upon 
the  open  ground.  But  all  eyes  alike 
were  fixed  upon  the  top  of  the  high  bluff. 
Breathless  they  watched  for  the  soaring  of 
the  red  eagle. 

From  within  the  dwellings  many  eyes 
peeped  through  the  small  holes  in  the  front 
lapels  of  the  teepee.  With  shaking  knees 
and  hard-set  teeth,  the  women  peered  out 
upon  the  Dakota  men  prowling  about  with 
bows  and  arrows. 

At  length  when  the  morning  sun  also 
peeped  over  the  eastern  horizon  at  the 

79 


Old  Indian  Legends 

armed  Dakotas,  the  red  eagle  walked  out 
upon  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Pluming  his 
gorgeous  feathers,  he  ruffled  his  neck  and 
napped  his  strong  wings  together,  Then 
he  dived  into  the  air.  Slowly  he  winged 
his  way  over  the  round  camp  ground ; 
over  the  men  with  their  strong  bows  and 
arrows !  In  an  instant  the  long  bows  were 
bent.  Strong  straight  arrows  with  red 
feathered  tips  sped  upward  to  the  blue 
sky.  Ah  !  slowly  moved  those  indifferent 
wings,  untouched  by  the  poison-beaked 
arrows.  Off  to  the  west  beyond  the  reach 
of  arrow,  beyond  the  reach  of  eye,  the  red 
eagle  flew  away. 

A  sudden  clamor  of  high-pitched  voices 
broke  the  deadly  stillness  of  the  dawn. 
The  women  talked  excitedly  about  the 
invulnerable  red  of  the  eagle's  feathers, 
while  the  would-be  heroes  sulked  within 
their  wigwams.  "  He-he-he  !  "  groaned  the 
chieftain. 

80 


The  Tree-Bound 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  sat  a 
group  of  hunters  around  a  bright  burning 
fire.  They  were  talking  of  a  strange  young 
man  whom  they  spied  while  out  upon  a 
hunt  for  deer  beyond  the  bluffs.  They  saw 
the  stranger  taking  aim.  Following  the 
point  of  his  arrow  with  their  eyes,  they 
beheld  a  herd  of  buffalo.  The  arrow  sprang 
from  the  bow !  It  darted  into  the  skull 
of  the  foremost  buffalo.  But  unlike  other 
arrows  it  pierced  through  the  head  of  the 
creature  and  spinning  in  the  air  lit  into 
the  next  buffalo  head.  One  by  one  the 
buffalo  fell  upon  the  sweet  grass  they  were 
grazing.  With  straight  quivering  limbs 
they  lay  on  their  sides.  The  young  man 
stood  calmly  by,  counting  on  his  fingers 
the  buffalo  as  they  dropped  dead  to  the 
ground.  When  the  last  one  fell,  he  ran 
thither  and  picking  up  his  magic  arrow 
wiped  it  carefully  on  the  soft  grass.  He 
slipped  it  into  his  long  fringed  quiver. 

81 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"He  is  going  to  make  a  feast  for  some 
hungry  tribe  of  men  or  beasts ! "  cried  the 
hunters  among  themselves  as  they  hastened 
away. 

They  were  afraid  of  the  stranger  with 
the  sacred  arrow.  When  the  hunter's  tale 
of  the  stranger's  arrow  reached  the  ears  of 
the  chieftain,  his  face  brightened  with  a 
smile.  He  sent  forth  fleet  horsemen,  to 
learn  of  him  his  birth,  his  name,  and  his 
deeds. 

"If  he  is  the  avenger  with  the  magic 
arrow,  sprung  up  from  the  earth  out  of  a 
clot  of  buffalo  blood,  bid  him  come  hither. 
Let  him  kill  the  red  eagle  with  his  magic 
arrow.  Let  him  win  for  himself  one  of 
my  beautiful  daughters,"  he  had  said  to 
his  messengers,  for  the  old  story  of  the 
badger's  man-son  was  known  all  over  the 
level  lands. 

After  four  days  and  nights  the  braves 
returned.  " He  is  coming,"  they  said.  "We 

82 


The  Tree-Bound 

have  seen  him.  He  is  straight  and  tall ; 
handsome  in  face,  with  large  black  eyes. 
He  paints  his  round  cheeks  with  bright  red, 
and  wears  the  penciled  lines  of  red  over 
his  temples  like  our  men  of  honored  rank. 
He  carries  on  his  back  a  long  fringed 
quiver  in  which  he  keeps  his  magic  arrow. 
His  bow  is  long  and  strong.  He  is  coming 
now  to  kill  the  big  red  eagle."  All  around 
the  camp  ground  from  mouth  to  ear  passed 
those  words  of  the  returned  messengers. 

Now  it  chanced  that  immortal  Iktomi, 
fully  recovered  from  the  brown  burnt  spots, 
overheard  the  people  talking.  At  once  he 
was  filled  with  a  new  desire.  "  If  only 
I  had  the  magic  arrow,  I  would  kill  the 
red  eagle  and  win  the  chieftain's  daughter 
for  a  wife,"  said  he  in  his  heart. 

Back  to  his  lonely  wigwam  he  hastened. 
Beneath  the  tree  in  front  of  his  teepee  he 
sat  upon  the  ground  with  chin  between  his 
drawn-up  knees.  His  keen  eyes  scanned 

83 


Old  Indian  Legends 

the  wide  plain.  He  was  watching  for  the 
avenger. 

"  '  He  is  coming  ! '  said  the  people,"  mut 
tered  old  Iktomi.  All  of  a  sudden  he 
raised  an  open  palm  to  his  brow  and 
peered  afar  into  the  west.  The  summer 
sun  hung  bright  in  the  middle  of  a  cloud 
less  sky.  There  across  the  green  prairie 
was  a  man  walking  bareheaded  toward 
the  east. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  '  t  is  he  !  the  man  with  the 
magic  arrow!"  laughed  Iktomi.  And  when 
the  bird  with  the  yellow  breast  sang  loud 
again  —  "  Koda  Ni  Dakota  !  Friend, 
you  're  a  Dakota !  "  Iktomi  put  his  hand 
over  his  mouth  as  he  threw  his  head  far 
backward,  laughing  at  both  the  bird  and 
man. 

"He  is  your  friend,  but  his  arrow  will 
kill  one  of  your  kind !  He  is  a  Dakota, 
but  soon  he  '11  grow  into  the  bark  on  this 
tree!  Ha!  ha!  ha!"  he  laughed  again. 

84 


The  Tree-Bound 

The  young  avenger  walked  with  swaying 
strides  nearer  and  nearer  toward  the  lonely 
wigwam  and  tree.  Iktomi  heard  the  swish ! 
swish!  of  the  stranger's  feet  through  the 
tall  grass.  He  was  passing  now  beyond  the 
tree,  when  Iktomi,  springing  to  his  feet, 
called  out :  "  How,  how,  my  friend  !  I  see 
you  are  dressed  in  handsome  deerskins  and 
have  red  paint  on  your  cheeks.  You  are 
going  to  some  feast  or  dance,  may  I  ask?" 
'Seeing  the  young  man  only  smiled  Iktomi 
went  on :  u  I  have  not  had  a  mouthful  of 
food  this  day.  Have  pity  on  me,  young 
brave,  and  shoot  yonder  bird  for  me ! " 
With  these  words  Iktomi  pointed  toward  the 
tree-top,  where  sat  a  bird  on  the  highest 
branch.  The  young  avenger,  always  ready 
to  help  those  in  distress,  sent  an  arrow 
upward  and  the  bird  fell.  In  the  next  branch 
it  was  caught  between  the  forked  prongs. 

"  My  friend,  climb  the  tree  and  get  the 
bird.  I  cannot  climb  so  high.  I  would 

85 


Old  Indian  Legends 

get  dizzy  and  fall,"  pleaded  Iktomi.  The 
avenger  began  to  scale  the  tree,  when 
Iktomi  cried  to  him :  "  My  friend,  your 
beaded  buckskins  may  be  torn  by  the 
branches.  Leave  them  safe  upon  the  grass 
till. you  are  down  again." 

66  You  are  right,"  replied  the  young  man, 
quickly  slipping  off  his  long  fringed  quiver. 
Together  with  his  dangling  pouches  and 
tinkling  ornaments,  he  placed  it  on  the 
ground.  Now  he  climbed  the  tree  unhin 
dered.  Soon  from  the  top  he  took  the 
bird.  "  My  friend,  toss  to  me  your  arrow 
that  I  may  have  the  honor  of  wiping  it 
clean  on  soft  deerskin !"  exclaimed  Iktomi. 

"  How !  "  said  the  brave,  and  threw  the 
bird  and  arrow  to  the  ground. 

At  once  Iktomi  seized  the  arrow.  Rub 
bing  it  first  on  the  grass  and  then  on  a 
piece  of  deerskin,  he  muttered  indistinct 
words  all  the  while.  The  young  man,  step 
ping  downward  from  limb  to  limb,  hearing 


The  Tree-Bound 

the  low  muttering,  said :  "  Iktomi,  I  cannot 
hear  what  you  say !  " 

"Oh,  my  friend,  I  was  only  talking  of 
your  big  heart." 

Again  stooping  over  the  arrow  Iktomi 
continued  his  repetition  of  charm  words. 
"  Grow  fast,  grow  fast  to  the  bark  of  the 
tree,"  he  whispered.  Still  the  young  man 
moved  slowly  downward.  Suddenly  drop 
ping  the  arrow  and  standing  erect,  Iktomi 
said  aloud :  "  Grow  fast  to  the  bark  of  the 
tree!"  Before  the  brave  could  leap  from 
the  tree  he  became  tightrgrown  to  the 
bark. 

"Ah!  ha!"  laughed  the  bad  Iktomi. 
"  I  have  the  magic  arrow  !  I  have  the 
beaded  buckskins  of  the  great  avenger ! " 
Hooting  and  dancing  beneath  the  tree,  he 
said :  "  I  shall  kill  the  red  eagle ;  I  shall 
wed  the  chieftain's  beautiful  daughter !  " 

"  Oh,  Iktomi,  set  me  free ! "  begged  the 
tree-bound  Dakota  brave.  But  Iktomi's 

87 


Old  Indian  Legends 

ears  were  like  the  fungus  on  a  tree.  He 
did  not  hear  with  them. 

Wearing  the  handsome  buckskins  and 
carrying  proudly  the  magic  arrow  in  his 
right  hand,  he  started  off:  eastward.  Imi 
tating  the  swaying  strides  of  the  avenger, 
he  walked  away  with  a  face  turned  slightly 
skyward. 

"  Oh,  set  me  free  !  I  am  glued  to  the 
tree  like  its  own  bark !  Cut  me  loose ! " 
moaned  the  prisoner. 

A  young  woman,  carrying  on  her  strong 
back  a  bundle  of  tightly  bound  willow 
sticks,  passed  near  by  the  lonely  teepee. 
She  heard  the  wailing  man's  voice.  She 
paused  to  listen  to  the  sad  words.  Looking 
around  she  saw  nowhere  a  human  creature. 
"It  may  be  a  spirit,"  thought  she. 

"  Oh !  cut  me  loose  !  set  me  free  !  Ik- 
tomi  has  played  me  false !  He  has  made 
me  bark  of  his  tree ! "  cried  the  voice 
again. 


The  Tree-Sound 

The  young  woman  dropped  her  pack  of 
firewood  to  the  ground.  With  her  stone 
axe  she  hurried  to  the  tree.  There  before 
her  astonished  eyes  clung  a  young  brave 
close  to  the  tree. 

Too  shy  for  words,  yet  too  kind-hearted 
to  leave  the  stranger  tree-bound,  she  cut 
loose  the  whole  bark.  Like  an  open  jacket 
she  drew  it  to  the  ground.  With  it  came 
the  young  man  also.  Free  once  more,  he 
started  away.  Looking  backward,  a  few 
paces  from  the  young  woman,  he  waved 
his  hand,  upward  and  downward,  before 
her  face.  This  was-  a  sign  of  gratitude 
used  when  words  failed  to  interpret  strong 
emotion. 

When  the  bewildered  woman  reached 
her  dwelling,  she  mounted  a  pony  and 
rode  swiftly  across  the  rolling  land.  To 
the  camp  ground  in  the  east,  to  the  chief 
tain  troubled  by  the  red  eagle,  she  carried 
her  story. 

89 


SHOOTING  OF  THE  RED  EAGLE 


01 


SHOOTING   OF   THE   RED   EAGLE 

A  MAN  in  buckskins  sat  upon  the  top  of 
a  little  hillock.  The  setting  sun  shone 
bright  upon  a  strong  bow  in  his  hand. 
His  face  was  turned  toward  the  round 
camp  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  He 
had  walked  a  long  journey  hither.  He 
was  waiting  for  the  chieftain's  men  to 
spy  him. 

Soon  four  strong  men  ran  forth  from  the 
center  wigwam  toward  the  hillock,  where 
sat  the  man  with  the  long  bow. 

"  He  is  the  avenger  come  to  shoot  the 
red  eagle,"  cried  the  runners  to  each 
other  as  they  bent  forward  swinging  their 
elbows  together. 

They  reached  the  side  of  the  stranger, 

but    he    did    not   heed    them.     Proud    and 
1  93 


Old  Indian  Legends 

silent  he  gazed  upon  the  cone-shaped  wig 
wams  beneath  him.  Spreading  a  hand 
somely  decorated  buffalo  robe  before  the 
man.  two  of  the  warriors  lilted  him  bv 

* 

each  shoulder  and  placed  him  gently  on  it. 
Then  the  four  men  took.  each,  a  corner 
of  the  blanket  and  carried  the  stranger, 
with  long  proud  steps,  toward  the  chief  tain's 
teepee. 

Ready  to  greet  the  stranger,  the  tall  chief 
tain  stood  at  the  entrance  way.  "How.  you 
are  the  avenger  with  the  magic  arrow ! "? 
said  he.  extending  to  him  a  smooth  soft 
hand. 

"  How.  great  chieftain ! "  replied  the  man, 
holding  long  the  chieftain's  hand.  Enter 
ing  the  teepee,  the  chieftain  motioned  the 
young  man  to  the  right  side  of  the  door 
way,  while  he  sat  down  opposite  him  with 
a  center  fire  burning  between  them.  Word 
less,  like  a  bashful  Indian  maid,  the  avenger 
ate  in  silence  the  food  set  before  him  on 

M 


Shooting  of  the  Red  Eagle 

the  ground  in  front  of  his  crossed  shins. 
When  he  had  finished  his  meal  he  handed 
the  empty  bowl  to  the  chieftain's  wife, 
saying,  "  Mother-in-law,  here  is  your  dish!" 

"  Han,  my  son !  "  answered  the  woman, 
taking -the  bowl. 

With  the  magic  arrow  in  his  quiver  the 
stranger  felt  not  in  the  least  too  presuming 
in  addressing  the  woman  as  his  mother- 
in-law. 

Complaining  of  fatigue,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  blanket  and  soon  within  the 
chieftain's  teepee  he  lay  fast  asleep. 

"  The  young  man  is  not  handsome  after 
all ! "  whispered  the  woman  in  her  hus 
band's  ear. 

"Ah,  but  after  he  has  killed  the  red 
eagle  he  will  seem  handsome  enough!" 
answered  the  chieftain. 

That  night  the  star  men  in  their  burial 
procession  in  the  sky  reached  the  low 
northern  horizon,  before  the  center  fires 

95 


Old  Indian  Legends 

within  the  teepees  had  flickered  out.  The 
ringing  laughter  which  had  floated  up 
through  the  smoke  lapels  was  now  hushed, 
and  only  the  distant  howling  of  wolves 
broke  the  quiet  of  the  village.  But  the 
lull  between  midnight  and  dawn  was  short 
indeed.  Very  early  the  oval-shaped  door- 
flaps  were  thrust  aside  and  many  brown 
faces  peered  out  of  the  wigwams  toward 
the  top  of  the  highest  bluff. 

Now  the  sun  rose  up  out  of  the  east. 
The  red  painted  avenger  stood  ready  within 
the  camp  ground  for  the  flying  of  the  red 
eagle.  He  appeared,  that  terrible  bird ! 
He  hovered  over  the  round  village  as  if 
he  could  pounce  down  upon  it  and  devour 
the  whole  tribe. 

When  the  first  arrow  shot  up  into  the 
sky  the  anxious  watchers  thrust  a  hand 
quickly  over  their  half-uttered  "  hinnu !  " 
The  second  and  the  third  arrows  flew 
upward  but  missed  by  a  wide  space  the 

96 


Shooting  of  the  Red  Eagle 

red  eagle  soaring  with  lazy  indifference 
over  the  little  man  with  the  long  bow. 
All  his  arrows  he  spent  in  vain.  "  Ah ! 
my  blanket  brushed  my  elbow  and  shifted 
the  course  of  my  arrow  ! "  said  the  stranger 
as  the  people  gathered  around  him. 

During  this  happening,  a  woman  on 
horseback  halted  her  pony  at  the  chief 
tain's  teepee.  It  was  no  other  than  the 
young  woman  who  cut  loose  the  tree- 
bound  captive ! 

While  she  told  the  story  the  chieftain 
listened  with  downcast  face.  "  I  passed 
him  on  my  way.  He  is  near  !  "  she  ended. 

Indignant  at  the  bold  impostor,  the  wrath 
ful  eyes  of  the  chieftain  snapped  fire  like 
red  cinders  in  the  night  time.  His  lips 
were  closed.  At  length  to  the  woman  he 
said :  "  How,  you  have  done  me  a  good 
deed."  Then  with  quick  decision  he  gave 
command  to  a  fleet  horseman  to  meet  the 
avenger.  "  Clothe  him  in  these  my  best 

97 


Old  Indian  Legends 

buckskins/'  said  he,  pointing  to  a  bundle 
within  the  wigwam. 

In  the  meanwhile  strong  men  seized 
Iktomi  and  dragged  him  by  his  long  hair 
to  the  hilltop.  There  upon  a  mock-pillared 
grave  they  bound  him  hand  and  feet. 
Grown-ups  and  children  sneered  and  hooted 
at  Iktomi' s  disgrace.  For  a  half-day  he 
lay  there,  the  laughing-stock  of  the  people. 
Upon  the  arrival  of  the  real  avenger,  Iktomi 
was  released  and  chased  away  beyond  the 
outer  limits  of  the  camp  ground. 

On  the  following  morning  at  daybreak, 
peeped  the  people  out  of  half-open  door- 
flaps. 

There  again  in  the  midst  of  the  large 
camp  ground  was  a  man  in  beaded  buck 
skins.  In  his  hand  was  a  strong  bow  and 
red-tipped  arrow.  Again  the  big  red  eagle 
appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff.  He 
plumed  his  feathers  and  flapped  his  huge 
wings. 

98 


He  placed  the  arrow  on  the  bow 


Shooting  of  the  Heel  Eagle 

The  young  man  crouched  low  to  the 
ground.  He  placed  the  arrow  on  the  bow, 
drawing  a  poisoned  flint  for  the  eagle. 

The  bird  rose  into  the  air.  He  moved 
his  outspread  wings  one,  two,  three  times 
and  lo !  the  eagle  tumbled  from  the  great 
height  and  fell  heavily  to  the  earth.  An 
arrow  stuck  in  his  breast !  He  was  dead  ! 

So  quick  was  the  hand  of  the  avenger, 
so  sure  his  sight,  that  no  one  had  seen  the 
arrow  fly  from  his  long  bent  bow. 

In  awe  and  amazement  the  village  was 
dumb.  And  when  the  avenger,  plucking 
a  red  eagle  feather,  placed  it  in  his  black 
hair,  a  loud  shout  of  the  people  went  up 
to  the  sky.  Then  hither  and  thither  ran 
singing  men  and  women  making  a  great 
feast  for  the  avenger. 

Thus  he  won  the  beautiful  Indian  princess 
who  never  tired  of  telling  to  her  children 
the  story  of  the  big  red  eagle. 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   TURTLE 


101 


IKTOMI   AND   THE   TURTLE 

THE  huntsman  Patkasa  (turtle)  stood 
bent  over  a  newly  slain  deer. 

The  red-tipped  arrow  he  drew  from  the 
wounded  deer  was  unlike  the  arrows  in  his 
own  quiver.  Another's  stray  shot  had 
killed  the  deer.  Patkasa  had  hunted  all 
the  morning  without  so  much  as  spying 
an  ordinary  blackbird. 

At  last  returning  homeward,  tired  and 
heavy-hearted  that  he  had  no  meat  for  the 
hungry  mouths  in  his  wigwam,  he  walked 
slowly  with  downcast  eyes.  Kind  ghosts 
pitied  the  unhappy  hunter  and  led  him 
to  the  newly  slain  deer,  that  his  children 
should  not  cry  for  food. 

When  Patkasa  stumbled  upon  the  deer 
in  his  path,  he  exclaimed :  "  Good  spirits 
have  pushed  me  hither ! " 

103 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Thus  he  leaned  long  over  the  gift  of  the 
friendly  ghosts. 

"  How,  my  friend  !  "  said  a  voice  behind 
his  ear,  and  a  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder. 
It  was  not  a  spirit  this  time.  It  was  old 
Iktomi. 

a  How,  Iktomi !  "  answered  Patkasa,  still 
stooping  over  the  deer. 

"  My  friend,  you  are  a  skilled  hunter," 
began  Iktomi,  smiling  a  thin  smile  which 
spread  from  one  ear  to  the  other. 

Suddenly  raising  up  his  head  Patkasa' s 
black  eyes  twinkled  as  he  asked :  "  Oh,  you 
really  say  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  you  are  a  skillful 
fellow.  Now  let  us  have  a  little  contest. 
Let  us  see  who  can  jump  over  the  deer 
without  touching  a  hair  on  his  hide,"  sug 
gested  Iktomi. 

"  Oh,  I  fear  I  cannot  do  it ! "  cried 
Patkasa,  rubbing  his  funny,  thick  palms 
together. 

104 


My  friend,  you  are  a  skilled  hunter 


Iktomi  and  the  Turtle 

"  Have  no  coward's  doubt,  Patkasa.  I 
say  you  are  a  skillful  fellow  who  finds 
nothing  hard  to  do."  With  these  words 
Iktomi  led  Patkasa  a  short  distance  away. 
In  little  puffs  Patkasa  laughed  uneasily. 

"  Now,  you  may  jump  first,"  said  Iktomi. 

Patkasa,  with  doubled  fists,  swung  his 
fat  arms  to  and  fro,  all  the  while  biting 
hard  his  under  lip. 

Just  before  the  run  and  leap  Iktomi 
put  in :  "  Let  the  winner  have  the  deer 
to  eat!" 

It  was  too  late  now  to  say  no.  Patkasa 
was  more  afraid  of  being  called  a  coward 
than  of  losing  the  deer.  "  Ho-wo,"  he 
replied,  still  working  his  short  arms.  At 
length  he  started  off  on  the  run.  So  quick 
and  small  were  his  steps  that  he  seemed 
to  be  kicking  the  ground  only.  Then 
the  leap !  But  Patkasa  tripped  upon  a 
stick  and  fell  hard  against  the  side  of 
the  deer. 

105 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"He-he-he!"  exclaimed  Iktomi,  pretend 
ing  disappointment  that  his  friend  had 
fallen. 

Lifting  him  to  his  feet,  he  said  :  "  Now  it 
is,  my  turn  to  try  the  high  jump  !  "  Hardly 
was  the  last  word  spoken  than  Iktomi  gave 
a  leap  high  above  the  deer. 

"  The  game  is  mine  ! "  laughed  he,  pat 
ting  the  sullen  Patkasa  on  the  back.  "  My 
friend,  watch  the  deer  while  I  go  to  bring 
my  children,"  said  Iktomi,  darting  lightly 
through  the  tall  grass. 

Patkasa  was  always  ready  to  believe  the 
words  of  scheming  people  and  to  do  the 
little  favors  any  one  asked  of  him.  How 
ever,  on  this  occasion,  he  did  not  answer 
"  Yes,  my  friend."  He  realized  that  Iktomi's 
flattering  tongue  had  made  him  foolish. 

He  turned  up  his  nose  at  Iktomi,  now 
almost  out  of  sight,  as  much  as  to 
say :  "  Oh,  no,  Ikto ;  I  do  not  hear  your 
words ! " 

106 


Iktomi  and  the  Turtle 

Soon  there  came  a  murmur  of  voices. 
The  sound  of  laughter  grew  louder  and 
louder.  All  of  a  sudden  it  became  hushed. 
Old  Iktomi  led  his  young  Iktomi  brood  to 
the  place  where  he  had  left  the  turtle,  but 
it  was  vacant.  Nowhere  was  there  any 
sign  of  Patkasa  or  the  deer.  Then  the 
babes  did  howl ! 

"Be  still!"  said  father  Iktomi  to  his 
children.  "I  know  where  Patkasa  lives. 
Follow  me.  I  shall  take  you  to  the  turtle's 
dwelling."  He  ran  along  a  narrow  footpath 
toward  the  creek  near  by.  Close  upon  his 
heels  came  his  children  with  tear-streaked 
faces. 

"  There  !  "  said  Iktomi  in  a  loud  whisper 
as  he  gathered  his  little  ones  on  the  bank. 
"  There  is  Patkasa  broiling  venison !  There 
is  his  teepee,  and  the  savory  fire  is  in  his 
front  yard ! " 

The  young  Iktomis  stretched  their  necks 
and  rolled  their  round  black  eyes  like 

107 


Old  Indian  Legends 

newly  hatched  birds.  They  peered  into 
the  water. 

"  Now,  I  will  cool  Patkasa's  fire.  I  shall 
bring  you  the  broiled  venison.  Watch 
closely.  When  you  see  the  black  coals  rise 
to  the  surface  of  the  water,  clap  your 
hands  and  shout  aloud,  for  soon  after  that 
sign  I  shall  return  to  you  with  some  tender 
meat." 

Thus  saying  Iktomi  plunged  into  the 
creek.  Splash !  splash !  the  water  leaped 
upward  into  spray.  Scarcely  had  it  become 
leveled  and  smooth  than  there  bubbled  up 
many  black  spots.  The  creek  was  seething 
with  the  dancing  of  round  black  things. 

"  The  cooled,  fire  !  The  coals  !  "  laughed 
the  brood  of  Iktomis.  Clapping  together 
their  little  hands,  they  chased  one  another 
along  the  edge  of  the  creek.  They  shouted 
and  hooted  with  great  glee. 

"  Alias ! "  said  a  gruff  voice  across  the 
water.  It  wras  Patkasa.  In  a  large  willow 

108 


Iktomi  and  the  Turtle 

tree  leaning  far  over  the  water  he  sat  upon 
a  large  limb.  On  the  very  same  branch 
was  a  bright  burning  fire  over  which 
Patkasa  broiled  the  venison.  By  this  time 
the  water  was  calm  again.  No  more  danced 
those  black  spots  on  its  surface,  for  they 
were  the  toes  of  old  Iktomi.  He  was 
drowned. 

The  Iktomi  children  hurried  away  from 
the  creek,  crying  and  calling  for  their 
water-dead  father. 


109 


DANCE  IN  A  BUFFALO  SKULL 


in 


DANCE   IN   A   BUFFALO   SKULL 

IT  was  night  upon  the  prairie.  Over 
head  the  stars  were  twinkling  bright  their 
red  and  yellow  lights.  The  moon  was 
young.  A  silvery  thread  among  the  stars, 
it  soon  drifted  low  beneath  the  horizon. 

Upon  the  ground  the  land  was  pitchy 
black.  There  are  night  people  on  the  plain 
who  love  the  dark.  Amid  the  black  level 
land  they  meet  to  frolic  under  the  stars. 
Then  when  their  sharp  ears  hear  any 
strange  footfalls  nigh  they  scamper  away 
into  the  deep  shadows  of  night.  There 
they  are  safely  hid  from  all  dangers,  they 
think. 

Thus  it  was  that  one  very  black  night, 
afar  off  from  the  edge  of  the  level  land,  out 
of  the  wooded  river  bottom  glided  forth  two 

113 


Old  Indian  Legends 

balls  of  fire.  They  came  farther  and  far 
ther  into  the  level  land.  They  grew  larger 
and  brighter.  The  dark  hid  the  body  of 
the  creature  with  those  fiery  eyes.  They 
came  on  and  on,  just  over  the  tops  of  the 
prairie  grass.  It  might  have  been  a  wild 
cat  prowling  low  on  soft,  stealthy  feet. 
Slowly  but  surely  the  terrible  eyes  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  heart  of  the  level 
land. 

There  in  a  huge  old  buffalo  skull  was  a. 
gay  feast  and  dance  !  Tiny  little  field  mice 
were  singing  and  dancing  in  a  circle  to  the 
boom-boom  of  a  wee,  wee  drum.  They 
were  laughing  and  talking  among  them 
selves  while  their  chosen  singers  sang  loud 
a  merry  tune. 

They  built  a  small  open  fire  within 
the  center  of  their  queer  dance  house. 
The  light  streamed  out  of  the  buffalo 
skull  through  all  the  curious  sockets  and 
holes. 

114 


Tiny  field  mice  were  singing  and  dancing  in  a  circle 


Dance  in  a  Buffalo  Skull 

A  light  on  the  plain  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  was  an  unusual  thing.  But  so  merry 
were  the  mice  they  did  not  hear  the  "  kins, 
kins "  of  sleepy  birds,  disturbed  by  the 
unaccustomed  fire. 

A  pack  of  wolves,  fearing  to  come  nigh 
this  night  fire,  stood  together  a  little  dis 
tance  away,  and,  turning  their  pointed  noses 
to  the  stars,  howled  and  yelped  most  dis 
mally.  Even  the  cry  of  the  wolves  was 
unheeded  by  the  mice  within  the  lighted 
buffalo  skull. 

They  were  feasting  and  dancing ;  they 
were  singing  and  laughing  —  those  funny 
little  furry  fellows. 

All  the  while  across  the  dark  from  out 
the  low  river  bottom  came  that  pair  of 
fiery  eyes. 

Now  closer  and  more  swift,  now  fiercer 
and  glaring,  the  eyes  moved  toward  the 
buffalo  skull.  All  unconscious  of  those 
fearful  eyes,  the  happy  mice  nibbled  at 

115 


Old  Indian  Legends 

dried  roots  and  venison.  The  singers  had 
started  another  song.  The  drummers  beat 
the  time,  turning  their  heads  from  side  to 
side  in  rhythm.  In  a  ring  around  the  fire 
hopped  the  mice,  each  bouncing  hard  on  his 
two  hind  feet.  Some  carried  their  tails 
over  their  arms,  while  others  trailed  them 
proudly  along. 

Ah,  very  near  are  those  round  yellow 
eyes !  Very  low  to  the  ground  they  seem 
to  creep  —  creep  toward  the  buffalo  skull. 
All  of  a  sudden  they  slide  into  the  eye- 
sockets  of  the  old  skull. 

"  Spirit  of  the  buffalo ! "  squeaked  a 
frightened  mouse  as  he  jumped  out  from 
a  hole  in  the  back  part  of  the  skull. 

"A  cat!  a  cat!"  cried  other  mice  as 
they  scrambled  out  of  holes  both  large  and 
snug.  Noiseless  they  ran  away  into  the 
dark. 


116 


THE   TOAD    AND    THE   BOY 


117 


THE   TOAD   AND   THE   BOY 

THE  water-fowls  were  flying  over  the 
marshy  lakes.  It  was  now  the  hunting 
season.  Indian  men,  with  bows  and  arrows, 
were  wading  waist  deep  amid  the  wild  rice. 
Near  by,  within  their  wigwams,  the  wives 
were  roasting  wild  duck  and  making  down 
pillows. 

In  the  largest  teepee  sat  a  young  mother 
wrapping  red  porcupine  quills  about  the 
long  fringes  of  a  buckskin  cushion.  Beside 
her  lay  a  black-eyed  baby  boy  cooing  and 
laughing.  Reaching  and  kicking  upward 
with  his  tiny  hands  and  feet,  he  played 
with  the  dangling  strings  of  his  heavy- 
beaded  bonnet  hanging  empty  on  a  tent 
pole  above  him. 

119 


Old  Indian  Legends 

At  length  the  mother  laid  aside  her  red 
quills  and  white  sinew-threads.  The  babe 
fell  fast  asleep.  Leaning  on  one  hand  and 
softly  whispering- a  little  lullaby,  she  threw 
a  light  cover  over  her  baby.  It  was  almost 
time  for  the  return  of  her  husband. 

Eemembering  there  were  no  willow 
sticks  for  the  fire,  she  quickly  girdled  her 
blanket  tight  about  her  waist,  and  with 
a  short-handled  ax  slipped  through  her 
belt,  she  hurried  away  toward  the  wooded 
ravine.  She  was  strong  and  swung  an 
ax  as  skillfully  as  any  man.  Her  loose 
buckskin  dress  was  made  for  such  freedom. 
Soon  carrying  easily  a  bundle  of  long 
willows  on  her  back,  with  a  loop  of  rope 
over  both  her  shoulders,  she  came  striding 
homeward. 

Near  the  entrance  way  she  stooped  low, 
at  once  shifting  the  bundle  to  the  right 
and  with  both  hands  lifting  the  noose  from 

over  her  head.      Having  thus  dropped  the 
120 


The  Toad  and  the  Boy 

wood  to  the  ground,  she  disappeared  into 
her  teepee.  In  a  moment  she  came  run 
ning  out  again,  crying,  "  My  son  !  My  lit 
tle  son  is  gone !  "  Her  keen  eyes  swept 
east  and  west  and  all  around  her.  There 
was  nowhere  any  sign  of  the  child. 

Running  with  clinched  fists  to  the  near 
est  teepees,  she  called  :  "  Has  any  one  seen 
my  baby  ?  He  is  gone !  My  little  son  is 
gone ! " 

"  Hinnu !  Hinnu ! "  exclaimed  the  women, 
rising  to  their  feet  and  rushing  out  of  their 
wigwams. 

"  We  have  not  seen  your  child  !  What 
has  happened?"  queried  the  women. 

With  great  tears  in  her  eyes  the  mother 
told  her  story. 

"  We  will  search  with  you,"  they  said 
to  her  as  she  started  off. 

They  met  the  returning  husbands,  who 
turned  about  and  joined  in  the  hunt  for 

the  missing  child.      Along  the  shore  of  the 
121 


Old  Indian  Legends 

lakes,  among  the  high-grown  reeds,  they 
looked  in  vain.  He  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  After  many  days  and  nights  the 
search  was  given  up.  It  was  sad,  indeed, 
to  hear  the  mother  wailing  aloud  for  her 
little  son. 

It  was  growing  late  in  the  autumn.  The 
birds  were  flying  high  toward  the  south. 
The  teepees  around  the  lakes  were  gone, 
save  one  lonely  dwelling. 

Till  the  winter  snow  covered  the  ground 
and  ice  covered  the  lakes,  the  wailing 
woman's  voice  was  heard  from  that  solitary 
wigwam.  From  some  far  distance  was  also 
the  sound  of  the  father's  voice  singing  a 
sad  song. 

Thus  ten  summers  and  as  many  winters 
have  come  and  gone  since  the  strange  dis 
appearance  of  the  little  child.  Every 
autumn  with  the  hunters  came  the  un 
happy  parents  of  the  lost  baby  to  search 

again  for  him. 

122 


The  Toad  and  the  Boy 

Toward  the  latter  part  of  the  tenth  sea 
son  when,  one  by  one,  the  teepees  were 
folded  and  the  families  went  away  from 
the  lake  region,  the  mother  walked  again 
along  the  lake  shore  weeping.  One  even 
ing,  across  the  lake  from  where  the  crying 
woman  stood,  a  pair  of  bright  black  eyes 
peered  at  her  through  the  tall  reeds  and 
wild  rice.  A  little  wild  boy  stopped  his 
play  among  the  tall  grasses.  His  long, 
loose  hair  hanging  down  his  brown  back 
and  shoulders  was  carelessly  tossed  from  his 
round  face.  He  wore  a  loin  cloth  of  woven 
sweet  grass.  Crouching  low  to  the  marshy 
ground,  he  listened  to  the  wailing  voice. 
As  the  voice  grew  hoarse  and  only  sobs 
shook  the  slender  figure  %of  tne  woman,  the 
eyes  of  the  wild  boy  grew  dim  and  wet. 

At  length,  when  the  moaning  ceased,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  like  a  nymph 
with  swift  outstretched  toes.  He  rushed 
into  a  small  hut  of  reeds  and  grasses. 

123 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"  Mother !  Mother !  Tell  me  what  voice 
it  was  I  heard  which  pleased  my  ears, 
but  made  my  eyes  grow  wet!"  said  he, 
breathless. 

"Han,  my  son,"  grunted  a  big,  ugly  toad. 
"It  was  the  voice  of  a  weeping  woman 
you  heard.  My  son,  do  not  say  you  like  it. 
Do  not  tell  me  it  brought  tears  to  your 
eyes.  You  have  never  heard  me  weep.  I 
can  please  your  ear  and  break  your  heart. 
Listen ! "  replied  the  great  old  toad. 

Stepping  outside,  she  stood  by  the  en 
trance  way.  She  was  old  and  badly  puffed 
out.  She  had  reared  a  large  family  of  lit 
tle  toads,  but  none  of  them  had  aroused  her 
love,  nor  ever  grieved  her.  She  had  heard 
the  wailing  human  voice  and  marveled  at 
the  throat  which  produced  the  strange 
sound.  Now,  in  her  great  desire  to  keep 
the  stolen  boy  awhile  longer,  she  ventured 
to  cry  as  the  Dakota  woman  does.  In  a 
gruff,  coarse  voice  she  broke  forth: 

124 


A  little  boy  stopped  his  play  among  the  grasses 


The  Toad  and  the  Boy 

"  Hin-hin,  doe-skin  !  Hin-hin,  Ermine, 
Ermine !  Hin-hin,  red  blanket,  with  white 
border ! " 

Not  knowing  that  the  syllables  of  a 
Dakota's  cry  are  the  names  of  loved  ones 
gone,  the  ugly  toad  mother  sought  to  please 
the  boy's  ear  with  the  names  of  valuable 
articles.  Having  shrieked  in  a  torturing 
voice  and  mouthed  extravagant  names,  the 
old  toad  rolled  her  tearless  eyes  with  great 
satisfaction.  Hopping  back  into  her  dwell 
ing,  she  asked : 

"My  son,  did  my  voice  bring  tears  to 
your  eyes  ?  Did  my  words  bring  gladness 
to  your  ears  ?  Do  you  not  like  my  wailing 
better?" 

"No,  no!"  pouted  the  boy  with  some 
impatience.  "  I  want  to  hear  the  woman's 
voice!  Tell  me,  mother,  why  the  human 
voice  stirs  all  my  feelings ! " 

The  toad  mother  said  within  her  breast, 
"  The  human  child  has  heard  and  seen  his 

125 


Old  Indian  Legends 

real  mother.  I  cannot  keep  him  longer,  I 
fear.  Oh,  no,  I  cannot  give  away  the 
pretty  creature  I  have  taught  to  call  me 
'  mother '  all  these  many  winters." 

66 Mother,"  went  on  the  child  voice,  "tell 
me  one  thing.  Tell  me  why  my  little 
brothers  and  sisters  are  all  unlike  me." 

The  big,  ugly  toad,  looking  at  her  pudgy 
children,  said :  "The  eldest  is  always  best." 

This  reply  quieted  the  boy  for  a  while. 
Very  closely  watched  the  old  toad  mother 
her  stolen  human  son.  When  by  chance  he 
started  off  alone,  she  shoved  out  one  of  her 
own  children  after  him,  saying :  "  Do  not 
come  back  without  your  big  brother." 

Thus  the  wild  boy  with  the  long,  loose 
hair  sits  every  day  on  a  marshy  island  hid 
among  the  tall  reeds.  But  he  is  not  alone. 
Always  at  his  feet  hops  a  little  toad  brother. 
One  day  an  Indian  hunter,  wading  in  the 
deep  waters,  spied  the  boy.  He  had  heard 
of  the  baby  stolen  long  ago. 

126 


The  Toad  and  the  Boy 

"  This  is  he !  "  murmured  the  hunter  to 
himself  as  he  ran  to  his  wigwam.  "  I  saw 
among  the  tall  reeds  a  black-haired  boy  at 
play ! "  shouted  he  to  the  people. 

At  once  the  unhappy  father  and  mother 
cried  out,  "  'T  is  he,  our  boy  !  "  Quickly 
he  led  them  to  the  lake.  Peeping  through 
the  wild  rice,  he  pointed  with  unsteady 
finger  toward  the  boy  playing  all  unawares. 

"Tis  he!  'tis  he!"  cried  the  mother, 
for  she  knew  him. 

In  silence  the  hunter  stood  aside,  while 
the  happy  father  and  mother  caressed  their 
baby  boy  grown  tall. 


127 


IYA,    THE   CAMP-EATER 


129 


IYA,  THE   CAMP-EATER 

FROM  the  tall  grass  came  the  voice  of 
a  crying  babe.  The  huntsmen  who  were 
passing  nigh  heard  and  halted. 

The  tallest  one  among  them  hastened 
toward  the  high  grass  with  long,  cautious 
strides.  He  waded  through  the  growth  of 
green  with  just  a  head  above  it  all.  Sud 
denly  exclaiming  "  Hunhe  !  "  he  dropped 
out  of  sight.  In  another  instant  he  held 
up  in  both  his  hands  a  tiny  little  baby, 
wrapped  in  soft  brown  buckskins. 

"  Oh  ho,  a  wood-child  ! "  cried  the  men, 
for  they  were  hunting  along  the  wooded 
river  bottom  where  this  babe  was  found. 

While  the  hunters  were  questioning 
whether  or  no  they  should  carry  it  home, 
the  wee  Indian  baby  kept  up  his  little  howl. 

"  His  voice  is  strong  !  "  said  one. 

131 


Old  Indian  Legend* 

"  At  times  it  sounds  like  an  old  man's 
voice ! "  whispered  a  superstitious  fellow, 
who  feared  some  bad  spirit  hid  in  the  small 
child  to  cheat  them  by  and  by. 

"  Let  us  take  it  to  our  wise  chieftain," 
at  length  they  said ;  and  the  moment  they 
started  toward  the  camp  ground  the  strange 
wood-child  ceased  to  cry. 

Beside  the  chieftain's  teepee  waited  the 
hunters  while  the  tall  man  entered  with 
the  child. 

"How!  how!"  nodded  the  kind-faced 
chieftain,  listening  to  the  queer  story. 
Then  rising,  he  took  the  infant  in  his 
strong  arms ;  gently  he  laid  the  black-eyed 
babe  in  his  daughter's  lap.  "  This  is  to  be 
your  little  son !  "  said  he,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  father, "  she  replied.  Pleased  with 
the  child,  she  smoothed  the  long  black  hair 
fringing  his  round  brown  face. 

"Tell  the  people  that  I  give  a  feast 
and  dance  this  day  for  the  naming  of 

132 


lya,  the  Camp-Eater 

my  daughter's  little  son/'  bade  the  chief 
tain. 

In  the  meanwhile  among  the  men  wait 
ing  by  the  entrance  way,  one  said  in  a  low 
voice  :  "  I  have  heard  that  bad  spirits  come 
as  little  children  into  a  camp  which  they 
mean  to  destroy." 

"  No  !  no  !  Let  us  not  be  overcautious. 
It  would  be  cowardly  to  leave  a  baby  in 
the  wild  wood  where  prowl  the  hungry 
wolves !  "  answered  an  elderly  man. 

The  tall  man  now  came  out  of  the  chief 
tain's  teepee.  With  a  word  he  sent  them 
to  their  dwellings  half  running  with  joy. 

66  A  feast !  a  dance  for  the  naming  of  the 
chieftain's  grandchild!"  cried  he  in  a  loud 
voice  to  the  village  people. 

"What?  what?"  asked  they  in  great 
surprise,  —  holding  a  hand  to  the  ear  to 
catch  the  words  of  the  crier. 

There  was  a  momentary  silence  among 
the  people  while  they  listened  to  the  ringing 

133 


Old  Indian  Legends 

voice  of  the  man  walking  in  the  center 
ground.  Then  broke  forth  a  rippling,  laugh 
ing  babble  among  the  cone-shaped  teepees. 
All  were  glad  to  hear  of  the  chieftain's  grand 
son.  They  were  happy  to  attend  the  feast 
and  dance  for  its  naming.  With  excited 
fingers  they  twisted  their  hair  into  glossy 
braids  and  painted  their  cheeks  with  bright 
red  paint.  To  and  fro  hurried  the  women, 
handsome  in  their  gala-day  dress.  Men  in 
loose  deerskins,  with  long  tinkling  metal 
fringes,  strode  in  small  numbers  toward  the 
center  of  the  round  camp  ground. 

Here  underneath  a  temporary  shade- 
house  of  green  leaves  they  were  to  dance 
and  feast.  The  children  in  deerskins  and 
paints,  just  like  their  elders,  were  jolly 
little  men  and  women.  Beside  their  eager 
parents  they  skipped  along  toward  the 
green  dance  house. 

Here  seated  in  a  large  circle,  the  people 
were  assembled,  the  proud  chieftain  rose 

134 


The  proud  chieftain  rose  with  the  little  baby  in  his  arms 


lya,  the  Camp-Eater 

with  the  little  baby  in  his  arms.  The 
noisy  hum  of  voices  was  hushed.  Not  a 
tinkling  of  a  metal  fringe  broke  the  silence. 
The  crier  came  forward  to  greet  the  chief 
tain,  then  bent  attentively  over  the  small 
babe,  listening  to  the  words  of  the  chieftain. 
When  he  paused  the  crier  spoke  aloud  to 
the  people : 

"  This  woodland  child  is  adopted  by  the 
chieftain's  eldest  daughter.  His  name  is 
Chaske.  He  wears  the  title  of  the  eldest 
son.  In  honor  of  Chaske  the  chieftain 
gives  this  feast  and  dance  !  These  are  the 
words  of  him  you  see  holding  a  baby  in  his 


arms." 


"Yes!  Yes!  Hinnu!  How!"  came  from 
the  circle.  At  once  the  drummers  beat 
softly  and  slowly  their  drum  while  the 
chosen  singers  hummed  together  to  find 
the  common  pitch.  The  beat  of  the  drum 
grew  louder  and  faster.  The  singers  burst 
forth  in  a  lively  tune.  Then  the  drum- 

135 


Old  Indian  Legends 

beats  subsided  and  faintly  marked  the 
rhythm  of  the  singing.  Here  and  there 
bounced  up  men  and  women,  both  young 
and  old.  They  danced  and  sang  with 
merry  light  hearts.  Then  came  the  hour 
of  feasting. 

Late  into  the  night  the  air  of  the  camp 
ground  was  alive  with  the  laughing  voices 
of  women  and  the  singing  in  unison  of 
young  men.  Within  her  father's  teepee  sat 
the  chieftain's  daughter.  Proud  of  her 
little  one,  she  watched  over  him  asleep  in 
her  lap. 

Gradually  a  deep  quiet  stole  over  the 
camp  ground,  as  one  by  one  the  people  fell 
into  pleasant  dreams.  Now  all  the  village 
was  still.  Alone  sat  the  beautiful  young 
mother  watching  the  babe  in  her  lap, 
asleep  with  a  gaping  little  mouth.  Amid 
the  quiet  of  the  night,  her  ear  heard  the 
far-off  hum  of  many  voices.  The  faint 
sound  of  murmuring  people  was  in  the 

136 


lya,  the  Camp-Eater 

air.  Upward  she  glanced  at  the  smoke 
hole  of  the  wigwam  and  saw  a  bright  star 
peeping  down  upon  her.  "  Spirits  in  the 
air  above?"  she  wondered.  Yet  there  was 
no  sign  to  tell  her  of  their  nearness.  The 
fine  small  sound  of  voices  grew  larger  and 
nearer. 

"  Father !  rise !  I  hear  the  coming  of 
some  tribe.  Hostile  or  friendly — I  can 
not  tell.  Rise  and  see ! "  whispered  the 
young  woman. 

a  Yes,  my  daughter!  "  answered  the  chief 
tain,  springing  to  his  feet. 

Though  asleep,  his  ear  was  ever  alert. 
Thus  rushing  out  into  the  open,  he  listened 
for  strange  sounds.  With  an  eagle  eye  he 
scanned  the  camp  ground  for  some  sign. 

Returning  he  said  :  "  My  daughter,  I  hear 
nothing  and  see  no  sign  of  evil  nigh." 

"  Oh !  the  sound  of  many  voices  comes 
up  from  the  earth  about  me ! "  exclaimed 
the  young  mother. 

137 


Old  Indian  Legends 

beats  subsided  and  faintly  marked  the 
rhythm  of  the  singing.  Here  and  there 
bounced  up  men  and  women,  both  young 
and  old.  They  danced  and  sang  with 
merry  light  hearts.  Then  came  the  hour 
of  feasting. 

Late  into  the  night  the  air  of  the  camp 
ground  was  alive  with  the  laughing  voices 
of  women  and  the  singing  in  unison  of 
young  men.  Within  her  father's  teepee  sat 
the  chieftain's  daughter.  Proud  of  her 
little  one,  she  watched  over  him  asleep  in 
her  lap. 

Gradually  a  deep  quiet  stole  over  the 
camp  ground,  as  one  by  one  the  people  fell 
into  pleasant  dreams.  Now  all  the  village 
was  still.  Alone  sat  the  beautiful  young 
mother  watching  the  babe  in  her  lap, 
asleep  with  a  gaping  little  mouth.  Amid 
the  quiet  of  the  night,  her  ear  heard  the 
far-off  hum  of  many  voices.  The  faint 
sound  of  murmuring  people  was  in  the 


lya,  the  Camf)-Eater 

air.  Upward  she  glanced  at  the  smoke 
hole  of  the  wigwam  and  saw  a  bright  star 
peeping  down  upon  her.  ^  Spirits  in  the 
air  above?"  she  wondered.  Yet  there  was 
no  sign  to  tell  her  of  their  nearness.  The 
fine  small  sound  of  voices  grew  larger  and 
nearer. 

"  Father !  rise !  I  hear  the  coming  of 
some  tribe.  Hostile  or  friendly — I  can 
not  tell.  Rise  and  see ! "  whispered  the 
young  woman. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter!  "  answered  the  chief 
tain,  springing  to  his  feet. 

Though  asleep,  his  ear  was  ever  alert. 
Thus  rushing  out  into  the  open,  he  listened 
for  strange  sounds.  With  an  eagle  eye  he 
scanned  the  camp  ground  for  some  sign. 

Returning  he  said  :  "  My  daughter,  I  hear 
nothing  and  see  no  sign  of  evil  nigh." 

66  Oh !  the  sound  of  many  voices  comes 
up  from  the  earth  about  me ! "  exclaimed 
the  young  mother. 

137 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Bending  low  over  her  babe  she  gave  ear 
to  the  ground.  Horrified  was  she  to  find 
the  mysterious  sound  came  out  of  the  open 
mouth  of  her  sleeping  child  ! 

66  Why  so  unlike  other  babes  !  "  she  cried 
within  her  heart  as  she  slipped  him  gently 
from  her  lap  to  the  ground.  "  Mother, 
listen  and  tell  me  if  this  child  is  an  evil 
spirit  come  to  destroy  our  camp ! "  she 
whispered  loud. 

Placing  an  ear  close  to  the  open  baby 
mouth,  the  chieftain  and  his  wife,  each  in 
turn  heard  the  voices  of  a  great  camp. 
The  singing  of  men  and  women,  the  beat 
ing  of  the  drum,  the  rattling  of  deer-hoofs 
strung  like  bells  on  a  string,  these  were 
the  sounds  they  heard. 

"We  must  go  away,"  said  the  chieftain, 
leading  them  into  the  night.  Out  in  the 
open  he  whispered  to  the  frightened  young 
woman  :  "  lya,  the  camp-eater,  has  come  in 
the  guise  of  a  babe.  Had  you  gone  to 

138 


lya,  the  Camp-Eater 

sleep,  he  would  have  jumped  out  into 
his  own  shape  and  would  have  devoured 
our  camp.  He  is  a  giant  with  spind 
ling  legs.  He  cannot  tight,  for  he  cannot 
run.  He  is  powerful  only  in  the  night 
with  his  tricks.  We  are  safe  as  soon  as 
day  breaks."  Then  moving  closer  to  the 
woman,  he  whispered :  "  If  he  wakes  now, 
he  will  swallow  the  whole  tribe  with  one 
hideous  gulp !  Come,  we  must  flee  with 
our  people." 

Thus  creeping  from  teepee  to  teepee  a 
secret  alarm  signal  was  given.  At  mid 
night  the  teepees  were  gone  and  there  was 
left  no  sign  of  the  village  save  heaps  of 
dead  ashes.  So  quietly  had  the  people 
folded  their  wigwams  and  bundled  their 
tent  poles  that  they  slipped  away  unheard 
by  the  sleeping  lya  babe. 

When  the  morning  sun  arose,  the  babe 
awoke.  Seeing  himself  deserted,  he  threw 
off  his  baby  form  in  a  hot  rage. 

139 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Wearing  his  own  ugly  shape,  his  huge 
body  toppled  to  and  fro,  from  side  to  side, 
on  a  pair  of  thin  legs  far  too  small  for  their 
burden.  Though  with  every  move  he  came 
dangerously  nigh  to  falling,  he  followed  in 
the  trail  of  the  fleeing  people. 

"  I  shall  eat  you  in  the  sight  of  a  noon 
day  sun  !  "  cried  lya  in  his  vain  rage,  when 
he  spied  them  encamped  beyond  a  river. 

By  some  unknown  cunning  he  swam 
the  river  and  sought  his  way  toward  the 
teepees. 

"  Hin  !  hin !  "  he  grunted  and  growled. 
With  perspiration  beading  his  brow  he 
strove  to  wiggle  his  slender  legs  beneath 
his  giant  form. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  all  the  village  people 
to  see  lya  made  foolish  with  anger.  "  Such 
spindle  legs  cannot  stand  to  fight  by  day 
light  !  "  shouted  the  brave  ones  who  were 
terror-struck  the  night  before  by  the  name 
"lya." 

140 


lya,  the  Camp-Eater 

Warriors  with  long  knives  rushed  forth 
and  slew  the  camp-eater. 

Lo !  there  rose  out  of  the  giant  a  whole 
Indian  tribe :  their  camp  ground,  their  tee 
pees  in  a  large  circle,  and  the  people  laugh 
ing  and  dancing. 

"  We  are  glad  to  be  free !  "  said  these 
strange  people. 

Thus  lya  was  killed  ;  and  no  more  are  the 
camp  grounds  in  danger  of  being  swallowed 
up  in  a  single  night  time. 


141 


MANSTIN,   THE   BABBIT 


143 


MANSTIN,   THE   RABBIT 

MANSTIN  was  an  adventurous  brave,  but 
very  kind-hearted.  Stamping  a  moccasined 
foot  as  he  drew  on  his  buckskin  leggins,  he 
said :  "  Grandmother,  beware  of  Iktomi ! 
Do  not  let  him  lure  you  into  some  cunning 
trap.  I  am  going  to  the  North  country  on 
a  long  hunt." 

With  these  words  of  caution  to  the 
bent  old  rabbit  grandmother  with  whom 
he  had  lived  since  he  was  a  tiny  babe, 
Manstin  started  off  toward  the  north. 
He  was  scarce  over  the  great  high  hills 
when  he  heard  the  shrieking  of  a  human 
child. 

"  Wan  ! "  he  ejaculated,  pointing  his  long 
ears  toward  the  direction  of  the  sound ; 
"Wan!  that  is  the  work  of  cruel  Double- 

145 


Old  Indian  Legends 

Face.     Shameless  coward!    he  delights  in 
torturing  helpless  creatures ! " 

Muttering  indistinct  words,  Manstin  ran 
up  the  last  hill  and  lo !  in  the  ravine  beyond 
stood  the  terrible  monster  with  a  face  in 
front  and  one  in  the  back  of  his  head ! 

This  brown  giant  was  without  clothes 
save  for  a  wild-cat-skin  about  his  loins. 
With  a  wicked  gleaming  eye,  he  watched 
the  little  black-haired  baby  he  held  in 
his  strong  arm.  In  a  laughing  voice  he 
hummed  an  Indian  mother's  lullaby, 
"  A-boo  !  Aboo  !  "  and  at  the  same  time 
he  switched  the  naked  baby  with  a  thorny 
wild-rose  bush. 

Quickly  Manstin  jumped  behind  a  large 
sage  bush  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  He 
bent  his  bow  and  the  sinewy  string  twanged. 
Now  an  arrow  stuck  above  the  ear  of 
Double-Face.  It  was  a  poisoned  arrow, 
and  the  giant  fell  dead.  Then  Manstin 
took  the  little  brown  baby  and  hurried 

146 


"  I  am  going  to  the  North  Country  on  a  long  hunt  " 


Maristin,  the  Rabbit 

away  from  the  ravine.  Soon  he  came  to 
a  teepee  from  whence  loud  wailing  voices 
broke.  It  was  the  teepee  of  the  stolen 
baby  and  the  mourners  were  its  heart 
broken  parents. 

When  gallant  Manstin  returned  the  child 
to  the  eager  arms  of  the  mother  there  came 
a  sudden  terror  into  the  eyes  of  both  the 
Dakotas.  They  feared  lest  it  was  Double- 
Face  come  in  a  new  guise  to  torture  them. 
The  rabbit  understood  their  fear  and 
said:  "I  am  Manstin,  the  kind-hearted, — 
Manstin,  the  noted  huntsman.  I  am  your 
friend.  Do  not  fear." 

That  night  a  strange  thing  happened. 
While  the  father  and  mother  slept,  Manstin 
took  the  wee  baby.  With  his  feet  placed 
gently  yet  firmly  upon  the  tiny  toes  of  the 
little  child,  he  drew  upward  by  each  small 
hand  the  sleeping  child  till  he  was  a  full- 
grown  man.  With  a  forefinger  he  traced 
a  slit  in  the  upper  lip ;  and  when  on  the 

147 


Old  Indian  Legends 

morrow  the  man  and  woman  awoke  they 
could  not  distinguish  their  own  son  from 
Manstin,  so  much  alike  were  the  braves. 

"  Henceforth  we  are  friends,  to  help  each 
other/'  said  Mans' tin,  shaking  a  right  hand 
in  farewell.  "The  earth  is  our  common 
ear,  to  carry  from  its  uttermost  extremes 
one's  slightest  wish  for  the  other ! " 

"Ho!  Be  it  so!"  answered  the  newly 
made  man. 

Upon  leaving  his  friend,  Manstin  hurried 
away  toward  the  North  country  whither  he 
was  bound  for  a  long  hunt.  Suddenly  he 
came  upon  the  edge  of  a  wide  brook.  His 
alert  eye  caught  sight  of  a  rawhide  rope 
staked  to  the  water's  brink,  which  led 
away  toward  a  small  round  hut  in  the  dis 
tance.  The  ground  was  trodden  into  a 
deep  groove  beneath  the  loosely  drawn 
rawhide  rope. 

"Hun-he!"  exclaimed  Manstin,  bending 
over  the  freshly  made  footprints  in  the 

148 


Mans  tin,  the  fiabbit 

moist  bank  of  the  brook.  "A  man's  foot 
prints  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  A  blind  man 
lives  in  yonder  hut !  This  rope  is  his  guide 
by  which  he  comes  for  his  daily  water!" 
surmised  Mans' tin,  who  knew  all  the  pecul 
iar  contrivances  of  the  people.  At  once 
his  eyes  became  fixed  upon  the  solitary 
dwelling  and  hither  he  followed  his  curi 
osity, —  a  real  blind  man's  rope. 

Quietly  he  lifted  the  door-flap  and  entered 
in.  An  old  toothless  grandfather,  blind  and 
shaky  with  age,  sat  upon  the  ground.  He 
was  not  deaf  however.  He  heard  the 
entrance  and  felt  the  presence  of  some 
stranger. 

"How,  grandchild,"  he  mumbled,  for  he 
was  old  enough  to  be  grandparent  to  every 
living  thing,  "  how !  I  cannot  see  you. 
Pray,  speak  your  name  !  " 

"  Grandfather,  I  am  Manstin,"  answered 
the  rabbit,  all  the  while  looking  with 
curious  eyes  about  the  wigwam. 

149 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"Grandfather,  what  is  it  so  tightly  packed 
in  all  these  buckskin  bags  placed  against 
the  tent  poles?"  he  asked. 

"My  grandchild,  those  are  dried  buffalo 
meat  and  venison.  These  are  magic  bags 
which  never  grow  empty.  I  am  blind  and  can 
not  go  on  a  hunt.  Hence  a  kind  Maker  has 
given  me  these  magic  bags  of  choicest  foods." 

Then  the  old,  bent  man  pulled  at  a  rope 
which  lay  by  his  right  hand.  "  This  leads 
me  to  the  brook  where  I  drink !  and  this," 
said  he,  turning  to  the  one  on  his  left, 
"  and  this  takes  me  into  the  forest,  where 
I  feel  about  for  dry  sticks  for  my  fire." 

"  Grandfather,  I  wish  I  lived  in  such  sure 
luxury !  I  would  lean  back  against  a  tent 
pole,  and  with  crossed  feet  I  would  smoke 
sweet  willow  bark  the  rest  of  my  days," 
sighed  Manstin. 

"  My  grandchild,  your  eyes  are  your 
luxury !  you  would  be  unhappy  without 
them  ! "  the  old  man  replied. 

150 


tui)  the  Rabbit 

"  Grandfather,  I  would  give  you  my  two 
eyes  for  your  place !  "  cried  Manstin. 

"  How  !  you  have  said  it.  Arise.  Take 
out  your  eyes  and  give  them  to  me.  Hence 
forth  you  are  at  home  here  in  my  stead." 

At  once  Manstin  took  out  both  his  eyes 
and  the  old  man  put  them  on !  Rejoicing, 
the  old  grandfather  started  away  with  his 
young  eyes  while  the  blind  rabbit  filled  his 
dream  pipe,  leaning  lazily  against  the  tent 
pole.  For  a  short  time  it  was  a  most 
pleasant  pastime  to  smoke  willow  bark 
and  to  eat  from  the  magic  bags. 

Manstin  grew  thirsty,  but  there  was  no 
water  in  the  small  dwelling.  Taking  one 
of  the  rawhide  ropes  he  started  toward  the 
brook  to  quench  his  thirst.  He  was  young 
and  unwilling  to  trudge  slowly  in  the  old 
man's  footpath.  He  was  full  of  glee,  for  it 
had  been  many  long  moons  since  he  had 
tasted  such  good  food.  Thus  he  skipped 
confidently  along  jerking  the  old  weather- 

151 


Old  Indian  Legends 

eaten  rawhide  spasmodically  till  all  of  a 
sudden  it  gave  way  and  Manstin  fell  head 
long  into  the  water. 

"  En !  En !  "  he  grunted  kicking  frantic 
ally  amid  stream.  All  along  the  slippery 
bank  he  vainly  tried  to  climb,  till  at  last  he 
chanced  upon  the  old  stake  and  the  deeply 
worn  footpath.  Exhausted  and  inwardly 
disgusted  with  his  mishaps,  he  crawled 
more  cautiously  on  all  fours  to  his  wig 
wam  door.  Dripping  with  his  recent 
plunge  he  sat  with  chattering  teeth  within 
his  unfired  wigwam. 

The  sun  had  set  and  the  night  air  was 
chilly,  but  there  was  no  fire-wood  in  the 
dwelling.  "  Hin !  "  murmured  Manstin  and 
bravely  tried  the  other  rope.  "I  go  for 
some  fire-wood ! "  he  said,  following  the 
rawhide  rope  which  led  into  the  forest. 
Soon  he  stumbled  upon  thickly  strewn 
dry  willow  sticks.  Eagerly  with  both 
hands  he  gathered  the  wood  into  his  out- 

152 


Maristin,  the  Rabbit 

spread  blanket.  Mans  tin  was  naturally  an 
energetic  fellow. 

When  he  had  a  large  heap,  he  tied  two 
opposite  ends  of  blanket  together  and  lifted 
the  bundle  of  wood  upon  his  back,  but 
alas !  he  had  unconsciously  dropped  the 
end  of  the  rope  and  now  he  was  lost  in 
the  wood! 

"  Hin !  hin  !  "  he  groaned.  Then  paus 
ing  a  moment,  he  set  his  fan-like  ears  to 
catch  any  sound  of  approaching  footsteps. 
There  was  none.  Not  even  a  night  bird 
twittered  to  help  him  out  of  his  predica 
ment. 

With  a  bold  face,  he  made  a  start  at 
random. 

He  fell  into  some  tangled  wood  where  he 
was  held  fast.  Manstin  let  go  his  bundle 
and  began  to  lament  having  given  away 
his  two  eyes. 

"  Friend,  my  friend,  I  have  need  of 
you !  The  old  oak  tree  grandfather  has 

153 


Old  Indian  Legends 

gone  off  with  my  eyes  and  I  am  lost  in 
the  woods ! "  he  cried  with  his  lips  close  to 
the  earth. 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  the  sound 
of  voices  was  audible  on  the  outer  edge  of 
the  forest.  Nearer  and  louder  grew  the 
voices  —  one  was  the  clear  flute  tones  of  a 
young  brave  and  the  other  the  tremulous 
squeaks  of  an  old  grandfather. 

It  was  Manstin's  friend  with  the  Earth 
Ear  and  the  old  grandfather.  "  Here 
Manstin,  take  back  your  eyes,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  I  knew  you  would  not  be  con 
tent  in  my  stead,  but  I  wanted  you  to  learn 
your  lesson.  I  have  had  pleasure  seeing 
with  your  eyes  and  trying  your  bow  and 
arrows,  but  since  I  am  old  and  feeble  I 
much  prefer  my  own  teepee  and  my  magic 
bags ! " 

Thus  talking  the  three  returned  to  the 
hut.  The  old  grandfather  crept  into  his 
wigwam,  which  is  often  mistaken  for  a 

154 


Maristin,  the  Rabbit 

mere   oak   tree  by  little  Indian  girls   and 
boys. 

Manstin,  with  his  own  bright  eyes  fitted 
into  his  head  again,  went  on  happily  to 
hunt  in  the  North  country. 


155 


THE   WAKLIKB    SEVEN 


157 


THE   WARLIKE   SEVEN 

ONCE  seven  people  went  out  to  make 
war, —  the  Ashes,  the  Fire,  the  Bladder, 
the  Grasshopper,  the  Dragon  Fly,  the  Fish, 
and  the  Turtle.  As  they  were  talking 
excitedly,  waving  their  fists  in  violent 
gestures,  a  wind  came  and  blew  the  Ashes 
away.  "Ho!  "  cried  the  others,  "he  could 
not  fight,  this  one  !  " 

The  six  went  on  running  to  make  war 
more  quickly.  They  descended  a  deep 
valley,  the  Fire  going  foremost  until  they 
came  to  a  river.  The  Fire  said  "  Hsss  — 
tchu  !  "  and  was  gone.  "  Ho  !  "  hooted  the 
others,  "he  could  not  fight,  this  one  ! " 

Therefore  the  five  went  on  the  more 
quickly  to  make  war.  They  came  to  a 
great  wood.  While  they  were  going  through 

159 


Old  Indian  Legends 

it,  the  Bladder  was  heard  to  sneer  and  to 
say,  "  He !  you  should  rise  above  these, 
brothers."  With  these  words  he  went  up 
ward  among  the  tree-tops ;  and  the  thorn 
apple  pricked  him.  He  fell  through  the 
branches  and  was  nothing !  "  You  see 
this!"  said  the  four,  "this  one  could  not 

fight." 

Still  the  remaining  warriors  would  not 
turn  back.  The  four  went  boldly  on  to  make 
war.  The  Grasshopper  with  his  cousin,  the 
Dragon  Fly,  went  foremost.  They  reached 
a  marshy  place,  and  the  mire  was  very 
deep.  As  they  waded  through  the  mud, 
the  Grasshopper's  legs  stuck,  and  he  pulled 
them  off !  He  crawled  upon  a  log  and 
wept,  "  You  see  me,  brothers,  I  cannot  go ! " 

The  Dragon  Fly  went  on,  weeping  for 
his  cousin.  He  would  not  be  comforted, 
for  he  loved  his  cousin  dearly.  The  more 
he  grieved,  the  louder  he  cried,  till  his  body 
shook  with  great  violence.  He  blew  his 

160 


The  Warlike  Seven 

red  swollen  nose  with  a  loud  noise  so  that 
his  head  came  off  his  slender  neck,  and  he 
was  fallen  upon  the  grass. 

"You  see  how  it  is,"  said  the  Fish,  lash 
ing  his  tail  impatiently,  "  these  people  were 
not  warriors!"  "Come!"  he  said,  "let 
us  go  on  to  make  war." 

Thus  the  Fish  and  the  Turtle  came  to  a 
large  camp  ground. 

"  Ho ! "  exclaimed  the  people  of  this 
round  village  of  teepees,  "Who  are  these 
little  ones?  What  do  they  seek?" 

Neither  of  the  warriors  carried  weapons 
with  them,  and  their  unimposing  stature 
misled  the  curious  people. 

The  Fish  was  spokesman.  With  a  pecul 
iar  omission  of  syllables,  he  said  :  "  Shu  .  .  . 
hi  pi ! " 

"  Wan  !  what  ?  what  ?  "  clamored  eager 
voices  of  men  and  women. 

Again  the  Fish  said :  "  Shu  .  .  .  hi  pi ! " 
Everywhere  stood  young  and  old  with  a 

161 


Old  Indian  Legends 

palm  to  an  ear.  Still  no  one  guessed  what 
the  Fish  had  mumbled  ! 

From  the  bewildered  crowd  witty  old 
Iktomi  came  forward.  "  He,  listen  !  "  he 
shouted,  rubbing  his  mischievous  palms 
together,  for  where  there  was  any  trouble 
brewing,  he  was  always  in  the  midst  of  it. 

"  This  little  strange  man  says,  '  Zuya 
unhipi !  We  come  to  make  war  ! ' 

"  Uun !  "  resented  the  people,  suddenly 
stricken  glum.  "  Let  us  kill  the  silly  pair ! 
They  can  do  nothing !  They  do  not  know 
the  meaning  of  the  phrase.  Let  us  build  a 
fire  and  boil  them  both  ! " 

"  If  you  put  us  on  to  boil,"  said  the 
Fish,  "  there  will  be  trouble." 

"  Ho  ho ! "  laughed  the  village  folk. 
"We  shall  see." 

And  so  they  made  a  fire. 

"  I  have  never  been  so  angered  !  "  said 
the  Fish.  The  Turtle  in  a  whispered  reply 
said:  "We  shall  die!" 

162 


He  blew  the  water  all  over  the  people 


The  Warlike  Seven 

When  a  pair  of  strong  hands  lifted  the 
Fish  over  the  sputtering  water,  he  put  his 
mouth  downward.  "  Whssh ! "  he  said. 
He  blew  the  water  all  over  the  people,  so 
that  many  were  burned  and  could  not  see. 
Screaming  with  pain,  they  ran  away. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  with  these  dread 
ful  ones  ?  "  they  said. 

Others  exclaimed:  "Let  us  carry  them 
to  the  lake  of  muddy  water  and  drown 
them !  " 

Instantly  they  ran  with  them.  They 
threw  the  Fish  and  the  Turtle  into  the 
lake.  Toward  the  center  of  the  large 
lake  the  Turtle  dived.  There  he  peeped 
up  out  of  the  water  and,  waving  a  hand 
at  the  crowd,  sang  out,  "  This  is  where 
I  live!" 

The  Fish  swam  hither  and  thither  with 
such  frolicsome  darts  that  his  back  fin 
made  the  water  fly.  "E  han!"  whooped 
the  Fish,  "  this  is  where  I  live !  " 

163 


Old  Indian  Legends 

"  Oh,  what  have  we  done ! "  said  the 
frightened  people,  "this  will  be  our  un 
doing." 

Then  a  wise  chief  said :  "  lya,  the  Eater, 
shall  come  and  swallow  the  lake ! " 

So  one  went  running.  He  brought  lya, 
the  Eater;  and  lya  drank  all  day  at  the 
lake  till  his  belly  was  like  the  earth.  Then 
the  Fish  and  the  Turtle  dived  into  the  mud ; 
and  lya  said :  "  They  are  not  in  me."  Hear 
ing  this  the  people  cried  greatly. 

Iktomi  wading  in  the  lake  had  been  swal 
lowed  like  a  gnat  in  the  water.  Within 
the  great  lya  he  was  looking  skyward.  So 
deep  was  the  water  in  the  Eater's  stomach 
that  the  surface  of  the  swallowed  lake 
almost  touched  the  sky. 

"I  will  go  that  way,"  said  Iktomi,  look 
ing  at  the  concave  within  arm's  reach. 

He  struck  his  knife  upward  in  the  Eater's 
stomach,  and  the  water  falling  out  drowned 
those  people  of  the  village. 

164 


The  Warlike  Seven 

Now  when  the  great  water  fell  into  its 
own  bed,  the  Fish  and  the  Turtle  came  to 
the  shore.  They  went  home  painted  victors 
and  loud-voiced  singers. 


165 


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